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[maryannecrimsworth]

Original Project: METANOEO

Synopsis: this is the first chapter of my original book: Metanoeo. In this story, the AI ruled nation, Cohen, is divided in four cities. Burgo, the city of the matriarchs, has a role-reversed 18th century society, where the woman rule and the men obey. The apex of feminism can be found here. Welcome to Burgo!

Tropes: matriarch and debutant boy; girl boss and male wife

Characters: Naia and Esben Malkyn (their edits and aesthetics are on the end of this post)

Genre: Dystopia Word count: 2540

If you want to know more about my original projects, leave a comment below and follow me on Instagram @m.torresiona

Esben smelt the smoke permeating the hallway before he even heard the matriarch's footsteps reaching the entrance hall. The thudding sound came much later, powerful and slow, when the boy's nostrils were already burning and he held his breath so as not to cough.

He always recognized the woman by the sound of her typical pacing and the smell of imported tobacco - perhaps if he heard her laugh or smelled her perfume, he wouldn't even recognize her. And when the woman arrived, it could only mean one thing: they were going out.

Esben finished dressing up and took one last look in the mirror before running to the door and opening it. He managed to get out a second before she called him, and he felt very proud of his own competence. His excited smile, however, was noticed with indifference by the woman, who turned to knock on the door of another room.

— Dad, are you ready? — she questioned, and swallowed the thin metal cylinder again. Esben remained holding his breath.

— Yes, my child. — a weak, sweet voice answered, and the man appeared from behind the door. Very tidy and with his hair combed back as usual. It made no sense for an old man like him to tidy his hair like young Esben. It would be vulgar.

The matriarch analyzed his appearance for long seconds. She seemed satisfied. She turned to the iron butler at the end of the hall and dictated:

— "We're going out.

And out they went, the three of them enclosed in the long car where they spent most of their time together. The only environment in which she did not smoke and her father did anything but nod affectionately. In those few minutes that preceded another of Esben's great sufferings, the elders politely talked about what was coming next: another luxurious ball.

The father updated the matriarch on the reputations and histories of the guests, the matriarch told about the status and condition of possible suitors; a preparation for facing all the well-dressed and ill-informed men and women in yet another gigantic hall that stank of alcohol.

Esben was supposed to pay attention to the conversation, but, as usual, he spent his precious time in the car taking deep breaths and remembering everything he was supposed to do. When the matriarch asked his opinion about someone, he was unable to answer. Then his father would intervene and Esben would see the woman's eyes turn with indifference once again.

He didn't understand the reason for that repetition. They had known the families invited for generations, and the matriarch already knew that no one's finances had changed drastically in the last five years. It wasn't as if there was some nasty rumor she needed to know about, so his father's lines were insignificant. They always had been.

Or, at least, they were until today. Today the matriarch didn't look away and decided to repeat the question until Esben heard it.

- What do you suggest? - her tone of voice was a little louder, a little more authoritative than usual. The boy cringed and tried to remember what he had heard before the question.

He couldn't, he hadn't heard anything.

- Mrs. Malkyn wants to know what you intend to do this evening. Would you prefer to dance in the ballroom or enjoy the breeze in the garden?

- Ah," Esben choked, surprised that he could choose. He didn't even have to think about it, "The garden, of course! That is, if it's to your liking.

- Yes, it is. - And that's all the matriarch said.

His father later explained to him that now that he had made his debut, he was ready to be a man, and since everyone already knew about his dancing skills, isolating himself was a great way to attract interested suitors He would isolate himself from the chaos of the party so that they would come to him - and they did. Although excited to escape the loud conversations and heavy drinking, the garden of the Watkins family mansion filled up as soon as they noticed the young man's presence there.

He couldn't tell which was more unbearable: the dozens of older women who waited impatiently for him to say something, or his companions, a few younger men, who tried to attract attention and dance, especially with the matriarch.

She politely declined and stood by Esben's side. It was like a dispute as to which suffocated him more: the proximity of the older woman or his posture correcting vest.

The matriarch's fingers brushed his suddenly, and she indicated to him a woman, subtly, staring at him. She looked different from the others: she looked even older and sterner, and she approached him with a determination that repelled all the other suitors. Literally: the women turned away from her like the sea in a miraculous biblical event.

- Mrs. Goodwin. - the matriarch greeted her, doing Esben a favor by reminding him of the old friend's name. He at least assumed he already knew her. - It's been a long time!

- What can I say, Malkyn? The county is in turmoil, you know very well. - Esben raised his eyebrows. He had never heard someone refer to the matriarch like that. Or talk. What kind of interaction was that?

- But please, my presence here is not related to business, my dear friend, at least not official business. - she glimpsed Esben. - I have come to this dazzling ball to disprove the rumor I have been told: that Naia Malkyn's younger brother is the most beautiful and gentle man in the entire state. - her voice warbled as if in a speech, loud enough for everyone to hear, soft enough to please everyone's ear. It had a conspiratorial, mysterious ring to it, which ended with a heavy sigh from the woman:

- But, how unfortunate!, I will not be able to fulfill my goal...After all, the Malkyn boy has indeed become charming. - And then her eyes rose to him again, and everyone turned to him again, and he felt that his face would explode again.

His whole skin burned and he wanted to run from the woman's words, as if they were a trap, like he was a wild animal, like they were an elegant-looking but disgusting cheese inside, reigning in his mousetrap. He was already wringing his hands and was about to pierce the sea of fish-women that was drowning him when the hand brushed against his shoulder again. Now it was deeper, longer, more intentional: a lull in the chaos, a touch of silence between all the burning in his head.

- What is the use of so many pretty words if the "Malkyn boy" is still thirsty? - the matriarch's question was so sharp, so pointed, that a few eyebrows were raised in the crowd. The persevering lady, however, was unaffected.

- On my way, ladies and gentlemen. - Goodwin warned, before turning around, causing the same effect as before on her way: total repulsion.

Mr. Malkyn was now busy, everyone had heard, but only the women decided to move away. They did not like to be around a lady as direct and unmannerly as Goodwin.

A considerable part of the Malkyn group of followers had dispersed, but the needy men were still there, and so were the desperate women.

Even in such a muffled, noisy, sweaty environment, Esben heard a low, rhythmic, desperate noise echoing through all the footsteps. He looked in its direction and saw his father. He stopped, trembling, confused, stared at the matriarch for a single second, and then turned away. He left the crowd before Mrs. Goodwin returned with two drinks.

Lemonade for her, blue liqueur for the boy. Future man. Was that the drink of a future man? Esben tried to remember the meaning of that drink from his etiquette lessons. It must not have been good, because Naia grimaced and then squeezed his shoulder, saying:

- Good conversation, gentlemen. - But she left. And with her went all the men, and the women who had finally given up on Esben.

- A little peace at last. - Goodwin celebrated, bringing her drink to her lips.

- Don't you like parties either?

- " Either"?

First mistake, right at the start.

- Um... yes, I prefer the gardens to the halls, ma'am. The air, the sky... I like them.

- And there's no air in the halls? - she asked, frowning so seriously that Esben stammered. - It's as if there isn't, isn't it? So stuffy and hot!

Her statement allowed the young man to breathe. No mistakes so far.

- Indeed! - Esben laughed with relief. - If I may ask, what do you do for a living?

- Oh, and I thought I wouldn't talk about work today! - Goodwin sighed, half annoyed, half disappointed. Had he said something wrong? Esben didn't know, but the woman continued:

- I grow apples and strawberries, Mr. Malkyn. Your sister helps with my planting.

- So you work in the Northern Region?

- That's right. - And she smiled as she looked at him. - Why do you seem so excited?

- Oh, it's no big deal, I just really like this region. I love the architecture and the plantations.

- You're not going to tell me you're not a city man? - she laughed with bewilderment and admiration.

- I'm not! - he laughed too. - The mountains and the trees... I really envy anyone who can live in this area!

The woman looked at him again, this time more slowly and calmly, and said in a delighted, deep voice: - Good to know.

And she would still be looking at him like that - dangerously sweet - if Esben's father hadn't intervened.

- Excuse me, Mrs. Goodwin. - the older man said. - We need to get inside. - and pulled his son by the arm to the center of the huge, crowded and suffocating hall.

- Dad, what's wrong? We're staying in the garden, have you forgotten? - he asked, involuntarily cringing at the noise.

- Keep your voice down and straighten up! - He spat with a fury that transformed his face. - Have you gone mad? Talking to Emily Goodwin like that? One wrong move with that scum and your life will be ruined!

- Father! - Esben pleaded as he tried to break free from his grip. It was impressive: the man was holding his arm elegantly, pretending to have the right posture to stick to his son, but in reality he was pinning him down and squeezing him with tremendous force. - Stop, stop! Naia allowed the conversation!

His father finally stopped twisting his skin. His face, once bathed in angry red, took on a pale hue that distressed Esben so much that all the shouting and music around him became insignificant.

- Father?

- It's getting late. - he suddenly commented. - Get ready to go. - and then released him and disappeared into the crowd.

His timing, as always, was precise: the hostess had already instructed the musicians to stop playing soon, and some families were already saying a long goodbye to other guests.

The party had passed, perhaps for the first time, quickly, and Esben went back to looking for Goodwin in the crowd. He couldn't just walk away and disappear from the lady like that.

However, before he could even find her, he was cornered by half a dozen other madams, and unnecessarily gentle and long goodbyes trapped him until his father pulled him by the arm again.

This time, he was accompanied by Mrs. Malkyn, and the family found themselves locked in the car within minutes.

The father, indignant, rattled around inside the car in such a way that even the matriarch couldn't ignore him. She stared at him endlessly, as if her brain was fighting with her lips and neither of them really knew what to do. Finally, they returned to South Central Manor, and Esben fled to his room while Naia carried his fight to the entrance hall.

The father, on the other hand, didn't bother to stop himself. His fists flew open and his hairstyle fell apart as soon as Esben had left the room.

- Naia, what's on your mind? - he screamed, his whole body shaking and boiling, his hands aggressive as he gestured. - Goodwin? Emily Goodwin? Do you really want your brother to become a heretic?

- A heretic?

- A nobody, living on the margins of society like the filthy Goodwin! - he laughed scornfully, an uncontrolled outpouring of anger. - A farmer! Is your brother going to have a farmer's wife now? - And he shouted and shouted until her ears hurt. She didn't even understand what was wrong with Goodwin.

- She lives in the country, just the way he likes it. What's the problem?

- The problem, you stupid girl, is that Goodwin is a disgrace! The woman doesn't go a month without appearing in the worst sessions of every show and you want to make her Esben's companion? - Naia could feel her father's saliva against her skin. - NO! NEVER!

- You don't get to decide that. - she retorted with the same force and firmness as the slap that hit her in the face.

- Listen here, young lady. You're not going to ruin this family name. Your mother worked too hard to get us to the top for you to ruin everything with Goodwin!

- Nothing's happened yet. - Naia assured her, ignoring the pain and numbness spreading across her cheek. - I'll fix it tomorrow.

And that was all the father needed to hear. He went to his quarters without making another sound.

Now the matriarch had to go to her office and catch up on business. In the city of Burgo, many deals took place at night, so she had to be ready and willing to attend to any client. And so she did: she walked without blinking to the other side of the house, crossing endless empty corridors until she reached her office door. But she stopped.

She stopped with her hand already on the edge of the doorknob, hesitating a few centimeters to reach it. She stopped, sighed, and when she felt that her face still hurt, she turned around and almost ran to her brother's room. For a second, she forgot to knock on the door, and was about to open it when a voice came from behind her.

- We have a visitor. - the metallic servant warned. - A man wants to see you.

- What's that? At this hour? - she turned to it with irritation. - Tell him I can't see him!

- Yes, ma'am. - and it went back to the entrance while the woman remained there, her body half out and half in Esben's room. She didn't wait any longer: she entered the room with a determination that would normally have frightened him.

She expected to find him curled up on the edge of his own bed, writing down something interesting he had done that day, so she looked around.

But he couldn't find it. She looked, looked, looked, walked around the room and couldn't find him. The only movement and life in the whole room came from the turbulent curtain, which was unable to quieten down because of the night wind. The wind that came from the wide-open window.

Naia leapt over the window.

From a distance, she saw only a figure, the figure of her own brother sneaking through the night.

Her chest filled with dread.

Esben was running away.

X

[maryannecrimsworth]

Reason why I’m gone

Not sure how many of you know (or even care lol) about why I've been so quiet this last few months, so I'm coming here to explain it. Even though I love getting requests and challenging myself over here, I decided to focus on my original (and Brazilian) writing.

In October, I finally achieved my dream: I published the first book of my dystopian sage, called METANOEO. I've been writing other original projects and publishing on Instagram ever since. Now that the holidays are coming, I think I will be able to finally write requests again and post here, but my focus is now on my professional account.

Here are the synopsis and my @ of original story.

Synopsis: The children of the bedroom have become the masters of the world. In a society that lives through screens, there is only one thing that everyone has in common - ambition. Everyone wants to be popular, everyone wants to evoke clicks from the other side of the glass, everyone wants their names associated with long numbers. And for those who can't, Arim Station exists. In order to guarantee the entertainment and joy of popular users - and, for the rest, maintenance and control - the system created by the Council aims to keep the entire nation at its maximum output. Cohen's nation has established ideal models for its population of streamers: its 4 cities, rigorously planned, are ready to welcome anyone who generates numerous hits. In this dystopia, everything is for profit, everything is for fame, everything is for likes. Until the deviants appeared... Welcome to Cohen's cities!

My professional profile: https://instagram.com/m.torresiona?igshid=NzZlODBkYWE4Ng==

And the aesthetic of my original story:

Hope you like it!

(@i984 SYNC HAS BEEN PUBLISHED)

[maryannecrimsworth]

Reason why I’m gone

Not sure how many of you know (or even care lol) about why I've been so quiet this last few months, so I'm coming here to explain it. Even though I love getting requests and challenging myself over here, I decided to focus on my original (and Brazilian) writing.

In October, I finally achieved my dream: I published the first book of my dystopian sage, called METANOEO. I've been writing other original projects and publishing on Instagram ever since. Now that the holidays are coming, I think I will be able to finally write requests again and post here, but my focus is now on my professional account.

Here are the synopsis and my @ of original story.

Synopsis: The children of the bedroom have become the masters of the world. In a society that lives through screens, there is only one thing that everyone has in common - ambition. Everyone wants to be popular, everyone wants to evoke clicks from the other side of the glass, everyone wants their names associated with long numbers. And for those who can't, Arim Station exists. In order to guarantee the entertainment and joy of popular users - and, for the rest, maintenance and control - the system created by the Council aims to keep the entire nation at its maximum output. Cohen's nation has established ideal models for its population of streamers: its 4 cities, rigorously planned, are ready to welcome anyone who generates numerous hits. In this dystopia, everything is for profit, everything is for fame, everything is for likes. Until the deviants appeared... Welcome to Cohen's cities!

My professional profile: https://instagram.com/m.torresiona?igshid=NzZlODBkYWE4Ng==

And the aesthetic of my original story:

Hope you like it!

(@i984 SYNC HAS BEEN PUBLISHED)

[maryannecrimsworth]

"The way to the police station was silent: the tension stretched the air, making the atmosphere too heavy to even breathe. Kris shifted in his seat, his eyes were either moving to the window or to the driver's side. Hailey, on the other hand, kept her gaze on the streets.

When they parked and got out of the car, Platt was already waiting for them — for him.

The look that the Sargent gave Hailey showed her why the garage was completely empty. Trudy was furious.

— Have you gone mad? — She stomped over to Aller, and the man stepped back immediately. — What are you even—

— I guess your best ability is pissing the sargents off. — Hailey’s smile dropped as soon as Platt's gaze landed on her.

Kris spoke before Trudy could shout.

— This isn't the best place to talk about this. — He made Platt look at him again. — And you don't have to worry about it. — He held the sergeant's shoulders. — No one does. No one knows.

— Voight shouldn't have called you. You shouldn't be involved in any of this—

— Trudy, please— His eyes, shining with exasperation, turned to Upton for a brief second. — Don't—

— You can't help him! — She screamed.

And Hailey was watching and listening to everything. Maybe the whole station was.

— I can. — Kris' voice was still low, stable. Serene, the complete opposite of his face. — I will. Please, you—

— Aren't you thinking about your girls? How can you? He did—what he did was monstrous! — Platt would not stop. She could not stop. — He spanked you.

— I know. — Kris whispered as his arms involved the older woman. She was trembling under his hands.

— He broke you. — Platt sobbed, her tears were falling nonstop. — And you're being used again, you're ruining your life again for what? For a rapist like him?

— I'm going to be fine, Trudy. I can do it.

— Voight's using you. — She pleaded again: — You can't—

— It's okay. — He hugged her tighter. — It's okay.

They stayed in the garage until the Sargent was able to stop crying. Until she was able to stop trembling.

And Hailey stayed there too.

She now had — at least a few — answers for all her questions about him."

Against All

Pairing: Hailey Upton x Single Father! Former FBI profiler! OC! Kristoff "Kris" Aller

Summary:

Nine corpses, nine burnt buildings, nine victims --- no connections.

The Intelligence unit of District 21st had been unable to find anything. All the clues were dead ends, all the people murdered were different - there was no pattern, no connection.

The only thing in common in all the cases: the modus operandi.

More murders were happening as the unit remained stagnant -- the cases were increasing, and they weren't getting any closer to having even one suspect.

Voight had no choice: he called the most efficient criminal profiler that he knew - who had also left the Bureau after a terrible event.

Kris Aller didn't want to go back, he didn't want to look a monster in the eye ever again, not after what had happened to his daughters.

But the sergeant needed him. This case - all the murders - were linked to the tragedy of his life. A tragedy that Hank couldn't avoid.

A tragedy that only Hailey Upton would understand --- and uncover.

Chapter One: Benjamin Cooper

— God, I hate this song — the teenager complained in a grunt. Even though she was sitting in the passenger seat, she could hear the younger girl singing from the back. — Can you tell her to shut up?

— No way. — The man driving replied quickly. — Amber's expressing herself, I can't tell her off for that.

— So tell her to express herself with another song! I swear to God if I hear — the girl on the back sang loudly: I was good she was hot — Argh! — The teen grunted. — I gave up. My ears will bleed forever.

— Blackhawks won yesterday, let her cheer. — He looked at the girl by his side, worry present in his semblance. — Is there something—

— Billy's here! — Amber shouted, making both the man and the teenager flinch. He stopped the car.— Papa, can I go? Please, I need to talk to him—

— At least she stopped singing.

— I heard that, Tess! — He stared hardly at the older girl before turning to the other. — Yes, you can, Amber, but behave in class, ok?

— Thank you! — She freed herself from the belt, kissed and hugged her father, and held the door of the car. — Bye, papa. Bye, Tessa. See ya later! — she dropped off and ran into the school. Her shirt of the Chicago Blackhawks got the attention of some girls around but she didn't mind.

They watched the little girl go as they waited inside the car in complete silence.

— Oh, no. — Tess suddenly spoke. — Mother Alert, we gotta go.

A woman appeared on the horizon: it was too late, she had reached the car and was already asking for the teen to lower the window.

— you're a terrible getaway pilot. — she mouthed to the man before rolling down the glass and allowing the woman to come even closer.

— Kris! How good to see you! — the woman screamed.

— Hello, Margaret. — only Tess could tell his smile was fake. — How are you?

— Oh, dear, I'm suffering because of you! — Tess widened and moved away from the window. Being between the two now should be her punishment for complaining. — My boys won't stop asking for your pretzels! My house is a mess.

— I'm sorry to hear that. You haven't tried the recipe yet? — Kris kept his hand on the wheels. He wanted to leave as much as Tess did.

— I have, but I don't have the magic hands you do, dear! Would you like to stop by tomorrow and teach the boys how to make it? I think it's the only way to calm them down.

— Oh, no, I wouldn't like to bother you. — One of Kris' hands fell to the gearbox. — I'll bring some more to their training, don't worry. — the car started to move. — Sorry, I gotta go. See ya!

The woman was left behind in sidewalk as both Kris and Tess started to breathe easily again.

— Was she smelling? — Tess asked.

— Don't be mean. It was just some cologne...I guess.

— It's paradoxal, you know. The mothers love a single dad but are crazy to make you no longer single.

— This is the conversation you want to have right now?

Tess' smile faded away. Kris wouldn't miss a thing, would he?

— I don't want to talk about it.

— Okay.

— It's just silly stuff from school.

— If it's bothering you, then it's not silly — he started, and Tess finished the sentence with him, her voice was filled with impatience and discomfort.

— I know, I know. — she sighed. — Still, I don't feel like talking right now.

— Sure. — Kris kept driving. — Do you want to get some ice cream?

— I have class.

— It's okay, we have time. — He turned the wheel to the right and started to look for an ice cream parlor. They arrived at a commercial street very quickly. — Here it is.

— It can't be open.

— It is! — he parked without any problem. At this time in the morning, no one was driving or passing by a street like that, but, thankfully, the parlors and cafeterias were open — still empty, but open.

— So, — he turned off the car. — ice cream?

— I hate when you do this

Kris smiled.

— you hate many things but you love ice cream, don't you?

— yes.

— So let's go.

Kris made her smile — well, she was smirking but it counted —, and they approached the parlor with joy.

The man was about to crack a joke when a man showed up by the empty street corner.

Kris' steps slowed down, recognizing him immediately. He, however, didn't allow Tess to have the chance to look at the other man.

— Tessa. — He turned her over to him. — I'll be right after you, ok? Here, get the one you want. — Tessa noted something was wrong, but she obeyed and walked over to the parlor, keeping distance from the other man.

As she reached the shop, Kris waited for the man to come closer.

— Sergeant Voight. — Kris spoke with a tense voice. He already knew what this was all about. He knew what he was going to ask. That's why he didn't take any of Voight's calls. — How can I help you?

— You know how. — Voight was holding a file. — I need a profiling, off the books.

— The feds would be happy to help you with this.

— No. — Hank stepped closer, — they can't know. We still don't know the length of this and...

— Maybe one of them can be involved. — Kris grunted under his breath. He looked away and remained in silence for many minutes.

— We've got 9 victims so far. — Hank would say whatever he needed to convince the man. — It's a clear M.O but we cannot predict too much besides that. My team and I—

— Okay. — Kris spoke suddenly. This time, when he looked back at the Sargent, his eyes shone discreetly. — I'm in. — His look jumped to the girl in the parlor, now appreciating her ice cream. — With one condition. My daughters have to be safe , no matter what.

— Nothing will happen to them. — Voight handed him the file. — I already spoke with your boss, he said he'll take care of the center until you're done helping us.

Kris laughed.

— You're a step ahead, as always. — Kris walked away from the Sargent. — See you there.

Voight nodded and left.

And Tess was watching everything when Kris finally came to the parlor.

— You're getting back, aren't you? — Tess sounded suspicious. Her hands were squeezing the bowl of ice cream with strength.

— You don't have to worry about it. — Kris said, helding one of her hands in an attempt to calm her down. Her expression slowly softened. — I made sure you and Amber we'll be safe and... — He showed a mischievous smile. — you have your own high school drama to live now, forget about me.

Tess rolled her eyes at his words.

— I'm not telling you anything.

— Yeah? I doubt it. I think you will come up with five profiles by next week.

— God, you make me sound creepy.

Kris laughed proudly and loudly.

— What can I say? It's our family thing.

X

Arriving at the police station would never be discreet: as soon as Kris left his car, half a dozen officers turned to him. Some smiled, some widened their eyes, but the loudest of all was Ruzek, who cheered and shouted as he came closer.

— Can't believe you're here, man — Adam hugged Kris and tapped his back. — I always thought you'd come back

— Hold on, I'm not back — "yet", Adam whispered, interrupting Kris while they walked to the unit floor — Voight asked for help and that's it. Don't get too excited.

— I'm not, but Kim will be. She's been curious about you since Myk and Amber started playing together.

— But she already knows me… — Kris was confused, he couldn't understand the reason behind Adam's excitement in time

— But she doesn't know ‘Bishop’! — Kris grunted in distress — It's good to have you back, Bishop

Adam walked away laughing as they came upstairs and met with the rest of the unit. Voight, Upton, Torres, Burgess and Atwater stared at Kris immediately.

— Team, that's Aller, former FBI profiler. — Voight introduced him — He’s going to help us with this case, so bring him up to date.

The man nodded respectfully and came closer as Torres stepped in and showed him the board.

— We have 9 corpses, 9 places and 9 crime scenes. All of these men were killed between 9 p.m to 3 a.m, with chains and inner burns.

Inner? Kris frowned at the words and stared attentively at the photos.

— They were cooked. — Kim explained with a choked voice. — Tortured during the whole night. We can’t get why, we don’t have any suspects…We don’t even have images. Only the bodies.

— And we don’t have much more of them, either…They had to be identified by their dental arch.

— It’s cruel. — Kevin said.

— It’s personal. — Kris spoke. — The victims had any enemies in common?

— No one. Nothing, to be honest. — Adam approached the board with the photos of the victims. — Different jobs, different homes, different colors and ages…But the same way of death.

Silence took over the room. Again, confusion and tension paired in the air as the new member of the unit stared at all the data, and all the other members watched him. He was totally still, eyes frozen on one name on the board.

— Benjamin Cooper. — Adam broke the silence with anxiety, pointing at the name that Kris so determinedly looked at. — No criminal record, but he testify years ago in—

— I know him. — Kris cut him off, and his eyes finally moved: his gaze landed on Voight. His expression, even though still as before, focused on the sergeant for too long. — He’s the reason why I’m here.

Voight looked away: the discomfort made him move around the room as Hailey watched them both suspiciously.

— Why do you mean? — Kim inquired.

— I…I worked on the case he testified in. — Aller explained. — Thanks to him…it all went wrong.

— I want you to talk with his family. — Voight demanded. — They know something, but didn’t tell us anything. They’ll talk to you.

Kris crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t take long to agree with the sergeant.

— Is this a pattern? — He asked before walking away from the board. — The other victims were involved in the case too?

— No. None of them had ever testified. — Torres replied.

— Cooper was a dead loss, the testimony was the only thing that could get him killed. — Kris went on. — He might be our connection.

— You heard him. Investigate the man, make a timeline of the night he was murdered, discover every single contact of his and find a connection. Every little detail can be important. — Voight gave the orders as he followed Kris.

They were about to walk downstairs when a strong voice stopped them.

— If Benjamin was a ‘dead loss’ as you said — Upton spoke up — why waste our time on him? The killer might act again tonight and we have to—

— Do we have any better leads? — Voight’s voice was sharp, his reaction was abrupt and harsh. His voice would grow louder if Kris hadn’t held him. — What? — He screamed at Aller.

— Calm down.

— I am perfectly calm for this case, Kristoff, but I cannot bear to see another dead body because of him .

Kris’ expression went dark. He bended over Voight.

— You’re not thinking straight….— Kris whispered. — Stay here. Remember what we talked about. I’m going to talk with the Coopers.

Voight walked back to the unit floor, and, before going into his office, he ordered again:

— Upton, you go with him.

She opened her mouth to protest, but Hank had already shut the door close.

Hailey picked up her coat and walked away with Kris, in complete silence.

They went downstairs and passed by Platt's balcony with a quiet goodbye. Even though the Sergeant clearly tried to talk with Kris, the man walked across the entrance and ignored all her glances.

Again, Hailey watched his behavior in silence and kept her way to the car.

— I'm sorry about Voight. — Kris said before getting closer to the passenger side. — This case is…. complicated to him.

They got into the car and Hailey asked:

— Yet, he won't tell us anything about it.

— It's a confidential case. — He argued.

— So confidential that you think everyone involved in it's a target. — She started the car.

— You need a connection. That might be it.

— Is this your profile? Or just a guess?

Kris responded with a snort.

— You're better off without knowing much about this case, believe me. — He shrugged in his seat. — Are we going to the Coopers or not?

Hailey grunted and drove away from the police station.

X

The house of the last members of the Cooper family was simple and humble. The garden looked abandoned, the grass was tall and the fence was almost completely broken. The car parked in the open garage was lowered, with empty tires and cracked windows.

They did not look simply poor — they looked like they had given up on life itself.

— I think it’s better if you stay here. — Kris spoke before Hailey could exit the car. Luckily or not, she froze for a second, giving him time to leave and walk over to the house.

After collecting herself, Upton got out of the car and ran after him.

— Excuse me? — She grabbed his arm and made him turn to her. — Who do you think you are?

— Look, don’t make this personal. Just — He cut her off before she could argue back — Just look around. They won’t talk to you.

— But to you they will? You're as arrogant as any shrink who's never been in the streets.

Kris watched her speak in silence: with his hands in his hips, he only waited for the woman to be done.

She stopped talking very quickly — after all, it was useless to say anything to his blank, strained expression — and the man enjoyed the silence of the street before finally replying:

— They will talk to me because they know me. — He stepped back. — Now, if you excuse me…

Ignoring his arguments, Hailey followed Aller close behind. He didn’t utter another word to her, and finally knocked on the house’s door.

— Anna? — Kris called. — It’s Kristoff. Can we talk?

Unlike the reception Upton and Voight received a few days ago, the woman answered him quickly and promptly. Her eyes were widened when she opened the door, but she frowned at Hailey. Anna’s face dropped, and she muttered to Kris a few words.

Kris signed to Hailey and they both followed the woman into the house.

— Can I see Benjamin's room?

— She already did — Anna replied before Upton could — They took all his gadgets and notebooks.

— I know. — Kris smiled gently. — I just want to check one thing up

Anna stared at him for too long — her gaze was heavy, not suspicious, but, somehow, sad. It carried so much guilt that she eventually showed him the room.

— I'm waiting in the kitchen. — she told them before opening the door of Benjamin's bedroom.

Kris stepped in as Anna walked away.

— As she told you, we already searched in here. You won't find anything useful.

— Maybe not. — Kris replied with a whisper, his whole being focused on analyzing the room. The walls were empty, and so was the bed and the dressers. — Looks like a prison cell.

— Or he was just minimalist. — Hailey argued. — Cooper's never been in jail.

— Yes. — Aller came closer to a drawer. — But he also had three records for criminal harassment. He was a stalker. — Kris wandered through the drawer and collected a few flyers. — Here it is.

— What?

— Our connection.

He didn't give Hailey time to question — Aller stormed out the room and came to Anna.

— Thank you for your help, Anna — He held out his hand to her. — We're already leaving.

The woman shook his hand and blinked slowly, as if gathering courage to say something.

— I have to tell you something. — Anna admitted.

Hailey saw Kris' expression drop — he stepped back and prepared to leave right away.

— You'd already told everything you needed. — He tried to be polite, but Hailey purposely stood in his way. He stomped on the detective and was obligated to stop.

— I did thank you. — Anna came closer, but Aller didn't look her in the eye. — But I never apologized for leaving you there. I shouldn't—

— It's okay. — He cut her off. — You don't have to. It's already gone. I don't resent you.

He smiled at her for a brief moment — only enough time to make her feel forgiven and understood.

Then he shook his head and left the house after saying a quiet goodbye.

Hailey stood there without understanding much — where was 'there'? What was Anna talking about? why would she thank him?

Upton followed him keenly — she wasn't going to stay in the dark again.

The way to the police station was silent: the tension stretched the air, making the atmosphere too heavy to even breathe. Kris shifted in his seat, his eyes were either moving to the window or to the driver's side. Hailey, on the other hand, kept her gaze on the streets.

When they parked and got out of the car, Platt was already waiting for them — for him.

The look that the Sargent gave Hailey showed her why the garage was completely empty. Trudy was furious.

— Have you gone mad? — She stomped over to Aller, and the man stepped back immediately. — What are you even—

— I guess your best ability is pissing the sargents off. — Hailey’s smile dropped as soon as Platt's gaze landed on her.

Kris spoke before Trudy could shout.

— This isn't the best place to talk about this. — He made Platt look at him again. — And you don't have to worry about it. — He held the sergeant's shoulders. — No one does. No one knows.

— Voight shouldn't have called you. You shouldn't be involved in any of this—

— Trudy, please— His eyes, shining with exasperation, turned to Upton for a brief second. — Don't—

— You can't help him! — She screamed.

And Hailey was watching and listening to everything. Maybe the whole station was.

— I can. — Kris' voice was still low, stable. Serene, the complete opposite of his face. — I will. Please, you—

— Aren't you thinking about your girls? How can you? He did—what he did was monstrous! — Platt would not stop. She could not stop. — He spanked you.

— I know. — Kris whispered as his arms involved the older woman. She was trembling under his hands.

— He raped you. — Platt sobbed, her tears were falling nonstop. — And you're being used again, you're ruining your life again for what? For him?

— I'm going to be fine, Trudy. I can do it.

— Voight's using you. — She pleaded again: — You can't—

— It's okay. — He hugged her tighter. — It's okay.

They stayed in the garage until the Sargent was able to stop crying. Until she was able to stop trembling.

And Hailey stayed there too.

She now had — at least a few — answers for all her questions about him.

[maryannecrimsworth]

Against All

Pairing: Hailey Upton x Single Father! Former FBI profiler! OC! Kristoff "Kris" Aller

Summary:

Nine corpses, nine burnt buildings, nine victims --- no connections.

The Intelligence unit of District 21st had been unable to find anything. All the clues were dead ends, all the people murdered were different - there was no pattern, no connection.

The only thing in common in all the cases: the modus operandi.

More murders were happening as the unit remained stagnant -- the cases were increasing, and they weren't getting any closer to having even one suspect.

Voight had no choice: he called the most efficient criminal profiler that he knew - who had also left the Bureau after a terrible event.

Kris Aller didn't want to go back, he didn't want to look a monster in the eye ever again, not after what had happened to his daughters.

But the sergeant needed him. This case - all the murders - were linked to the tragedy of his life. A tragedy that Hank couldn't avoid.

A tragedy that only Hailey Upton would understand --- and uncover.

Chapter One: Benjamin Cooper

— God, I hate this song — the teenager complained in a grunt. Even though she was sitting in the passenger seat, she could hear the younger girl singing from the back. — Can you tell her to shut up?

— No way. — The man driving replied quickly. — Amber's expressing herself, I can't tell her off for that.

— So tell her to express herself with another song! I swear to God if I hear — the girl on the back sang loudly: I was good she was hot — Argh! — The teen grunted. — I gave up. My ears will bleed forever.

— Blackhawks won yesterday, let her cheer. — He looked at the girl by his side, worry present in his semblance. — Is there something—

— Billy's here! — Amber shouted, making both the man and the teenager flinch. He stopped the car.— Papa, can I go? Please, I need to talk to him—

— At least she stopped singing.

— I heard that, Tess! — He stared hardly at the older girl before turning to the other. — Yes, you can, Amber, but behave in class, ok?

— Thank you! — She freed herself from the belt, kissed and hugged her father, and held the door of the car. — Bye, papa. Bye, Tessa. See ya later! — she dropped off and ran into the school. Her shirt of the Chicago Blackhawks got the attention of some girls around but she didn't mind.

They watched the little girl go as they waited inside the car in complete silence.

— Oh, no. — Tess suddenly spoke. — Mother Alert, we gotta go.

A woman appeared on the horizon: it was too late, she had reached the car and was already asking for the teen to lower the window.

— you're a terrible getaway pilot. — she mouthed to the man before rolling down the glass and allowing the woman to come even closer.

— Kris! How good to see you! — the woman screamed.

— Hello, Margaret. — only Tess could tell his smile was fake. — How are you?

— Oh, dear, I'm suffering because of you! — Tess widened and moved away from the window. Being between the two now should be her punishment for complaining. — My boys won't stop asking for your pretzels! My house is a mess.

— I'm sorry to hear that. You haven't tried the recipe yet? — Kris kept his hand on the wheels. He wanted to leave as much as Tess did.

— I have, but I don't have the magic hands you do, dear! Would you like to stop by tomorrow and teach the boys how to make it? I think it's the only way to calm them down.

— Oh, no, I wouldn't like to bother you. — One of Kris' hands fell to the gearbox. — I'll bring some more to their training, don't worry. — the car started to move. — Sorry, I gotta go. See ya!

The woman was left behind in sidewalk as both Kris and Tess started to breathe easily again.

— Was she smelling? — Tess asked.

— Don't be mean. It was just some cologne...I guess.

— It's paradoxal, you know. The mothers love a single dad but are crazy to make you no longer single.

— This is the conversation you want to have right now?

Tess' smile faded away. Kris wouldn't miss a thing, would he?

— I don't want to talk about it.

— Okay.

— It's just silly stuff from school.

— If it's bothering you, then it's not silly — he started, and Tess finished the sentence with him, her voice was filled with impatience and discomfort.

— I know, I know. — she sighed. — Still, I don't feel like talking right now.

— Sure. — Kris kept driving. — Do you want to get some ice cream?

— I have class.

— It's okay, we have time. — He turned the wheel to the right and started to look for an ice cream parlor. They arrived at a commercial street very quickly. — Here it is.

— It can't be open.

— It is! — he parked without any problem. At this time in the morning, no one was driving or passing by a street like that, but, thankfully, the parlors and cafeterias were open — still empty, but open.

— So, — he turned off the car. — ice cream?

— I hate when you do this

Kris smiled.

— you hate many things but you love ice cream, don't you?

— yes.

— So let's go.

Kris made her smile — well, she was smirking but it counted —, and they approached the parlor with joy.

The man was about to crack a joke when a man showed up by the empty street corner.

Kris' steps slowed down, recognizing him immediately. He, however, didn't allow Tess to have the chance to look at the other man.

— Tessa. — He turned her over to him. — I'll be right after you, ok? Here, get the one you want. — Tessa noted something was wrong, but she obeyed and walked over to the parlor, keeping distance from the other man.

As she reached the shop, Kris waited for the man to come closer.

— Sergeant Voight. — Kris spoke with a tense voice. He already knew what this was all about. He knew what he was going to ask. That's why he didn't take any of Voight's calls. — How can I help you?

— You know how. — Voight was holding a file. — I need a profiling, off the books.

— The feds would be happy to help you with this.

— No. — Hank stepped closer, — they can't know. We still don't know the length of this and...

— Maybe one of them can be involved. — Kris grunted under his breath. He looked away and remained in silence for many minutes.

— We've got 9 victims so far. — Hank would say whatever he needed to convince the man. — It's a clear M.O but we cannot predict too much besides that. My team and I—

— Okay. — Kris spoke suddenly. This time, when he looked back at the Sargent, his eyes shone discreetly. — I'm in. — His look jumped to the girl in the parlor, now appreciating her ice cream. — With one condition. My daughters have to be safe , no matter what.

— Nothing will happen to them. — Voight handed him the file. — I already spoke with your boss, he said he'll take care of the center until you're done helping us.

Kris laughed.

— You're a step ahead, as always. — Kris walked away from the Sargent. — See you there.

Voight nodded and left.

And Tess was watching everything when Kris finally came to the parlor.

— You're getting back, aren't you? — Tess sounded suspicious. Her hands were squeezing the bowl of ice cream with strength.

— You don't have to worry about it. — Kris said, helding one of her hands in an attempt to calm her down. Her expression slowly softened. — I made sure you and Amber we'll be safe and... — He showed a mischievous smile. — you have your own high school drama to live now, forget about me.

Tess rolled her eyes at his words.

— I'm not telling you anything.

— Yeah? I doubt it. I think you will come up with five profiles by next week.

— God, you make me sound creepy.

Kris laughed proudly and loudly.

— What can I say? It's our family thing.

X

Arriving at the police station would never be discreet: as soon as Kris left his car, half a dozen officers turned to him. Some smiled, some widened their eyes, but the loudest of all was Ruzek, who cheered and shouted as he came closer.

— Can't believe you're here, man — Adam hugged Kris and tapped his back. — I always thought you'd come back

— Hold on, I'm not back — "yet", Adam whispered, interrupting Kris while they walked to the unit floor — Voight asked for help and that's it. Don't get too excited.

— I'm not, but Kim will be. She's been curious about you since Myk and Amber started playing together.

— But she already knows me… — Kris was confused, he couldn't understand the reason behind Adam's excitement in time

— But she doesn't know ‘Bishop’! — Kris grunted in distress — It's good to have you back, Bishop

Adam walked away laughing as they came upstairs and met with the rest of the unit. Voight, Upton, Torres, Burgess and Atwater stared at Kris immediately.

— Team, that's Aller, former FBI profiler. — Voight introduced him — He’s going to help us with this case, so bring him up to date.

The man nodded respectfully and came closer as Torres stepped in and showed him the board.

— We have 9 corpses, 9 places and 9 crime scenes. All of these men were killed between 9 p.m to 3 a.m, with chains and inner burns.

Inner? Kris frowned at the words and stared attentively at the photos.

— They were cooked. — Kim explained with a choked voice. — Tortured during the whole night. We can’t get why, we don’t have any suspects…We don’t even have images. Only the bodies.

— And we don’t have much more of them, either…They had to be identified by their dental arch.

— It’s cruel. — Kevin said.

— It’s personal. — Kris spoke. — The victims had any enemies in common?

— No one. Nothing, to be honest. — Adam approached the board with the photos of the victims. — Different jobs, different homes, different colors and ages…But the same way of death.

Silence took over the room. Again, confusion and tension paired in the air as the new member of the unit stared at all the data, and all the other members watched him. He was totally still, eyes frozen on one name on the board.

— Benjamin Cooper. — Adam broke the silence with anxiety, pointing at the name that Kris so determinedly looked at. — No criminal record, but he testify years ago in—

— I know him. — Kris cut him off, and his eyes finally moved: his gaze landed on Voight. His expression, even though still as before, focused on the sergeant for too long. — He’s the reason why I’m here.

Voight looked away: the discomfort made him move around the room as Hailey watched them both suspiciously.

— Why do you mean? — Kim inquired.

— I…I worked on the case he testified in. — Aller explained. — Thanks to him…it all went wrong.

— I want you to talk with his family. — Voight demanded. — They know something, but didn’t tell us anything. They’ll talk to you.

Kris crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t take long to agree with the sergeant.

— Is this a pattern? — He asked before walking away from the board. — The other victims were involved in the case too?

— No. None of them had ever testified. — Torres replied.

— Cooper was a dead loss, the testimony was the only thing that could get him killed. — Kris went on. — He might be our connection.

— You heard him. Investigate the man, make a timeline of the night he was murdered, discover every single contact of his and find a connection. Every little detail can be important. — Voight gave the orders as he followed Kris.

They were about to walk downstairs when a strong voice stopped them.

— If Benjamin was a ‘dead loss’ as you said — Upton spoke up — why waste our time on him? The killer might act again tonight and we have to—

— Do we have any better leads? — Voight’s voice was sharp, his reaction was abrupt and harsh. His voice would grow louder if Kris hadn’t held him. — What? — He screamed at Aller.

— Calm down.

— I am perfectly calm for this case, Kristoff, but I cannot bear to see another dead body because of him .

Kris’ expression went dark. He bended over Voight.

— You’re not thinking straight….— Kris whispered. — Stay here. Remember what we talked about. I’m going to talk with the Coopers.

Voight walked back to the unit floor, and, before going into his office, he ordered again:

— Upton, you go with him.

She opened her mouth to protest, but Hank had already shut the door close.

Hailey picked up her coat and walked away with Kris, in complete silence.

They went downstairs and passed by Platt's balcony with a quiet goodbye. Even though the Sergeant clearly tried to talk with Kris, the man walked across the entrance and ignored all her glances.

Again, Hailey watched his behavior in silence and kept her way to the car.

— I'm sorry about Voight. — Kris said before getting closer to the passenger side. — This case is…. complicated to him.

They got into the car and Hailey asked:

— Yet, he won't tell us anything about it.

— It's a confidential case. — He argued.

— So confidential that you think everyone involved in it's a target. — She started the car.

— You need a connection. That might be it.

— Is this your profile? Or just a guess?

Kris responded with a snort.

— You're better off without knowing much about this case, believe me. — He shrugged in his seat. — Are we going to the Coopers or not?

Hailey grunted and drove away from the police station.

X

The house of the last members of the Cooper family was simple and humble. The garden looked abandoned, the grass was tall and the fence was almost completely broken. The car parked in the open garage was lowered, with empty tires and cracked windows.

They did not look simply poor — they looked like they had given up on life itself.

— I think it’s better if you stay here. — Kris spoke before Hailey could exit the car. Luckily or not, she froze for a second, giving him time to leave and walk over to the house.

After collecting herself, Upton got out of the car and ran after him.

— Excuse me? — She grabbed his arm and made him turn to her. — Who do you think you are?

— Look, don’t make this personal. Just — He cut her off before she could argue back — Just look around. They won’t talk to you.

— But to you they will? You're as arrogant as any shrink who's never been in the streets.

Kris watched her speak in silence: with his hands in his hips, he only waited for the woman to be done.

She stopped talking very quickly — after all, it was useless to say anything to his blank, strained expression — and the man enjoyed the silence of the street before finally replying:

— They will talk to me because they know me. — He stepped back. — Now, if you excuse me…

Ignoring his arguments, Hailey followed Aller close behind. He didn’t utter another word to her, and finally knocked on the house’s door.

— Anna? — Kris called. — It’s Kristoff. Can we talk?

Unlike the reception Upton and Voight received a few days ago, the woman answered him quickly and promptly. Her eyes were widened when she opened the door, but she frowned at Hailey. Anna’s face dropped, and she muttered to Kris a few words.

Kris signed to Hailey and they both followed the woman into the house.

— Can I see Benjamin's room?

— She already did — Anna replied before Upton could — They took all his gadgets and notebooks.

— I know. — Kris smiled gently. — I just want to check one thing up

Anna stared at him for too long — her gaze was heavy, not suspicious, but, somehow, sad. It carried so much guilt that she eventually showed him the room.

— I'm waiting in the kitchen. — she told them before opening the door of Benjamin's bedroom.

Kris stepped in as Anna walked away.

— As she told you, we already searched in here. You won't find anything useful.

— Maybe not. — Kris replied with a whisper, his whole being focused on analyzing the room. The walls were empty, and so was the bed and the dressers. — Looks like a prison cell.

— Or he was just minimalist. — Hailey argued. — Cooper's never been in jail.

— Yes. — Aller came closer to a drawer. — But he also had three records for criminal harassment. He was a stalker. — Kris wandered through the drawer and collected a few flyers. — Here it is.

— What?

— Our connection.

He didn't give Hailey time to question — Aller stormed out the room and came to Anna.

— Thank you for your help, Anna — He held out his hand to her. — We're already leaving.

The woman shook his hand and blinked slowly, as if gathering courage to say something.

— I have to tell you something. — Anna admitted.

Hailey saw Kris' expression drop — he stepped back and prepared to leave right away.

— You'd already told everything you needed. — He tried to be polite, but Hailey purposely stood in his way. He stomped on the detective and was obligated to stop.

— I did thank you. — Anna came closer, but Aller didn't look her in the eye. — But I never apologized for leaving you there. I shouldn't—

— It's okay. — He cut her off. — You don't have to. It's already gone. I don't resent you.

He smiled at her for a brief moment — only enough time to make her feel forgiven and understood.

Then he shook his head and left the house after saying a quiet goodbye.

Hailey stood there without understanding much — where was 'there'? What was Anna talking about? why would she thank him?

Upton followed him keenly — she wasn't going to stay in the dark again.

The way to the police station was silent: the tension stretched the air, making the atmosphere too heavy to even breathe. Kris shifted in his seat, his eyes were either moving to the window or to the driver's side. Hailey, on the other hand, kept her gaze on the streets.

When they parked and got out of the car, Platt was already waiting for them — for him.

The look that the Sargent gave Hailey showed her why the garage was completely empty. Trudy was furious.

— Have you gone mad? — She stomped over to Aller, and the man stepped back immediately. — What are you even—

— I guess your best ability is pissing the sargents off. — Hailey’s smile dropped as soon as Platt's gaze landed on her.

Kris spoke before Trudy could shout.

— This isn't the best place to talk about this. — He made Platt look at him again. — And you don't have to worry about it. — He held the sergeant's shoulders. — No one does. No one knows.

— Voight shouldn't have called you. You shouldn't be involved in any of this—

— Trudy, please— His eyes, shining with exasperation, turned to Upton for a brief second. — Don't—

— You can't help him! — She screamed.

And Hailey was watching and listening to everything. Maybe the whole station was.

— I can. — Kris' voice was still low, stable. Serene, the complete opposite of his face. — I will. Please, you—

— Aren't you thinking about your girls? How can you? He did—what he did was monstrous! — Platt would not stop. She could not stop. — He spanked you.

— I know. — Kris whispered as his arms involved the older woman. She was trembling under his hands.

— He raped you. — Platt sobbed, her tears were falling nonstop. — And you're being used again, you're ruining your life again for what? For him?

— I'm going to be fine, Trudy. I can do it.

— Voight's using you. — She pleaded again: — You can't—

— It's okay. — He hugged her tighter. — It's okay.

They stayed in the garage until the Sargent was able to stop crying. Until she was able to stop trembling.

And Hailey stayed there too.

She now had — at least a few — answers for all her questions about him.

[maryannecrimsworth]

Headcanons

Pairing: Hailey Upton x Single Father! Former FBI profiler! OC! Kristoff "Kris" Aller

Summary: here

Author's note: these are just some ideas I gathered until I can't come up with the first chapter. I hope you like it

First Stake-out

“You know, you can ask me anything” He seemed comfortable in the passenger’s seat, his voice was serene and low. The night was perfectly still, his slow-moving chest and words being the only proof of life in the whole block. Unlike her, he felt easy, and his breathing was silent and light. His gaze was on the streets, focused but unpreoccupied. Hailey, on the other hand, froze for a second, and her breathing stopped when he suddenly spoke. “It’s easier than following me around, you know.”

She quickly turned to him, and their eyes finally met. Her widened look found his cool expression.

“Why did you do it?”

"I'm uncomfortable with this partnership" Hailey admitted with a sharp voice

"This isn't a partnership." He replied almost immediately. "I'm here for a case. Only one. Then you don't get to see me again."

Hailey sustained their shared gaze — she analyzed his features as he grew unsletted before her light blue eyes.

"I don't think you mean that. Any of it." She stated. " It's useless to ask you anything if you're going to answer with lies."

Kris snorted. "Are you serious?"

"Everything about you seems fake." She argued back "So, yes, I'm serious."

"Hmm." His eyes were burnings hers; his annoyance was clear "Why is that?"

"You have a juvenile record, but almost none reports from the police academy. Several promotions, only compliments, even Platt likes you...On paper, you're a perfect cop, but—"

"I turned it all down." His semblance softened; he shook his head slowly as if her suspicions were perfectly reasonable. "Do you wish to know why?"

For a second, Hailey saw his eyes water, and she was ready to say 'yes' — but Kris turned his face away in reflex. "Someone's here." He whispered, now analyzing the empty streets.

They were not alone.

Context

• At first, Hailey didn't like the idea of Kris becoming her new partner; Technically, he wasn't even suppose to know about the case. For some reason, however, Voight trusted Kris — yet, it didn't mean Hailey would trust him

• "C.I Bishop" that's what Ruzek called him. No long after, Hailey figured out why he had this title: during his patrol days, Kris assigned more C.Is and got confessions for many cases. Suspects would talk to him as if he was a priest in the confessional. No wonder he was selected for the first team of the Special Investigations Unit. Few years later, FBI itself selected him and took him to N.Y

• Voight and Platt treated him with respect and warmth; it was unusual to see Trudy being chatty and asking about his daughters nearly every time Kris passed by; Voight would do the same thing, and worse: many times, he would take Kris to his office for some sort of secretive conversation. Hailey could only watch them

• Adam was willing to be his partner; Torres was making up theories Kris very often agreed with; Voight trusted him completely — and it was clear that Kris wasn't excited about getting a desk for himself. But the Sargent teamed him up with Hailey, and the man occupied Jay's former table with discomfort. They both had to admit, it was awkward

Partnership

• There was something off about him, Hailey could tell. No one could possibly be so balanced, light headed and calm as Kris . No true profiler or police officer could be so easy going while watching and analyzing the most horrible scenes she has ever seen. He looked like a pshyco, staring at the crime scenes and victims with a totally blank face. Another odd thing: he didn't come up with any theories on the first days, even though this was his only job

• He looked, sounded, and behaved like a lie, a fraud. And this case was too important for him to mess everything up. Hailey felt she had no other option: she started to investigate him

• It didn't take long until she figured out: his wife suspiciously passed away four years ago; he left FBI for unknown reasons; he has the guardianship of two girls: Amber, 6, his daughter, and Tessa, 14, his niece. She could find nothing about Tessa's mother. He had brilliant ratings and few complaints. On the paper, he was one of the best police officers Hailey has ever known — who suddenly gave up everything to work at a rehab center. He was either an angel or a demon running from his past

• Another problem: he had a juvenile reccord, which required autorization to be accesed. He came to Chicago when he was 17, and got in trouble just a few days after arriving. The only thing Hailey could discover: Voight took care of his case

A bit more about the plot:

"I have a clue." He spoke out of the sudden as soon as the shift began. His eyes shone with an unsettling energy. "A theory, more precisely." He walked over to the board. "The animal-based accelerator, the abandoned factories and now companies. It's evolving, growing like a story-line." The whole unit looked at Kris with confusion. "I looked up the first arsons again. All the buildings once were public places, hospitals, secretariats, stations and so on." They asked how the companies buildings would fit into that, and he went on "They don't aim at the people, but at what the place symbols. At 3 a.m, they go to old community centers, lock whoever is in up, and set fires to it." Silence again. "Mission-oriented type of serial killers. I'm just missing their manifest." "Why you keep saying them?" The team asked. "It's a group. Probably white, young men, trying to make a statement for the whole town to see." Adam, Kim and Kevin glanced at each other, all of them confused and surprised. Voight, Torres and Upton stared straight at Kris. "I made up a list of possible next targets. They might act tomorrow." Then, without questioning, Voight said "So let's get ready."

[maryannecrimsworth]

Wednesday rejecting Reader's love confession because of being too busy with her investigation, but after Crackstone, her 2nd year in Nevermore was boring until she finds out about reader's secret wings, which captivates her, so she starts noticing her more and more until she ends up falling for her, but R now has a boyfriend.

Great idea!

Here is the link, marvelous anon

Thank you for your request 🧡

[maryannecrimsworth]

Fly Away

Masterlist

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Winged! Female! Reader

Summary(Request): Wednesday rejecting Reader's love confession because of being too busy with her investigation, but after Crackstone, her 2nd year in Nevermore was boring until she finds out about reader's secret wings, which captivates her, so she starts noticing her more and more until she ends up falling for her, but R now has a boyfriend.

Warnings: Angst, of course; rejection; that's pretty much it

X

When she first arrived at Nevermore, Wednesday was like a hurricane: no one could dare to approach her, no one could help but watch her. Xavier Thorpe was obsessed, Bianca Barclay was envious, and the rest of school loved to see the tension and troubles that followed the Addams.

Perhaps Enid and you were the only exceptions, you two tried to help her to fit in.

Enid was blissful when Wednesday finally accepted to participate in the Poe Cup. You couldn't dare to be part of it — you valued your life too much to be opponents with Enid — but you cheered and shouted for their team like you're a member yourself.

And they won — Enid spent the last days celebrating the win and focusing on getting Ajax attention. You let her be, it would be useless to follow her around right now.

You had other goals. The main one: be true to yourself, finally. That means going after Wednesday and telling her the truth that's been haunting you.

You felt something about her — no matter how creepy and rude she was when you first met.

She was confident and weird, determined and smart.

You couldn't help but have a crush on her. And you had the impression that, if you were able to know her better, something great could come up between the two of you. Maybe even...A date.

You smiled to yourself as you walked through the corridor. You could hear Wednesday talking to Thing from inside her room. Your wings trembled with excitement.

The vest started scratching your back, but you went on and knocked on her door.

You were shaking, and so were the limbs that made you fly, but you controlled yourself – you smiled even brighter and waited for Wednesday to open the door.

For your discontent, it was Thing who opened it.

— Hi. — you walked past him, trying to reach the Addams girl. She was looking at a very creepy board. There were photos of limbs, victims and locations on it. She was investigating. — Can we talk? It'll be very quick.

— Enid isn't here. Go gossip somewhere else.

— I came to talk to you, actually.

— What do you want? — Her eyes didn't move from the board, but you kept stepping closer.

— I want to ask you out. — Wednesday didn't react. You tried again. — I like you, and I think we'd have a great time if we went out on a date.

– No. – she didn't even look at you. – I don't have time for this.

— It's okay, we can do it next week.

— No. — she finally turned to you. Her voice was sharper and colder than usual. — Let me alone.

You widened at her. You heard Thing tipping behind you, probably telling Wednesday off.

– I won't change my mind. — you weren't sure if she was talking to Thing or you. — Go away.

Okay, you had to admit: you were ready for the worst. Only God Himself knew how Wednesday Addams was going to react to an ask like that but....it was worse than anything you could've ever imagined.

It was totally cold and firm — like you weren't even worth a shot or a proper look from her.

— Wow. — you spoke to yourself, nearly laughing from the situation you've got yourself in. — Ok. Bye.

You stormed out the room, your back now was trembling as if you were in pain, your wings were out of control.

Running from Ophelia Hall was not enough.

You ripped your vest out and flew away from Nevermore.

You flew until you could swallow the pain you felt for being treated like that.

X

A part of Wednesday still hated Nevermore. Even though she had a great impression with all the lies, murderers and dangers, it was still a high school. It was still filled with boring, stupid teenagers that, somehow, make themselves even more ridiculous than normies.

Only a Fur would use their power to be famous on Tik Tok — and many others meaningless, superficial hobbies all the students seemed to have.

Sometimes, Wednesday thought about herself as the only being worth attention and conversation in that place.

She stayed with Eugene as much as she could but sometimes even the boy wanted to gossip.

It was gross. The whole quad and the whole cliques of that school were gross and ridiculous.

She was deadly bored. She was considering attacking someone just to see something happening.

That's when she decided to visit Jericho's cemetery.

She was either going to scary or attack the grave digger, she wasn't quite sure yet.

Wednesday knew that, right now, her last resort for some distraction was the local graveyard.

The Addams girl was walking through the dark, hiding in the shadows like if she belonged to them, heading towards the middle of the yard. From there, she could have a great view and find someone to scary.

She was nearly there when she heard a scream — and it was not because of her.

Her body boiled with anger, her mind spinned with curiosity.

She ran after the noise only to see a group of teenagers crying, praying, and running for their lives.

She smiled at the view, and, seconds later, a glorious laughter destroyed the silence of the cemetery.

Wednesday's eyes followed the sound and they met with a statue — a Silhouette of a angel, with moving wings and a sword.

Now, however, the sword was laying on the floor and the wings were stretching alongside the laughter.

Wednesday stepped closer and finally saw: it was you, grinning and enjoying yourself under the moonlight. In a cemetery.

She couldn't dare to interrupt your contagious joy, watching you was enough to give her a pleasure she hasn't felt in months.

And, from that day on, she started to follow you.

X

You were problematic, and you were funny. You knew how to gossip and you knew how to behave properly.

You were straightforward, sometimes even blunt, and you were honest, always.

Most of all, you were loyal.

No wonder why Enid and so many others were friends with you — you were the perfect partner for anything.

Instantly, Wednesday remembered how you were willing to take her as your companion, how you deliberately asked to be with her, nearly a year ago.

And she denied.

She denied any intimacy she now could have with the only being who did not aggravate her violent urges.

You were the chaos she now needed in a sea of boredom.

And Wednesday decided she would accept — even after a year — your request.

She would go out with you.

She had to — after watching you for several months, the only choice she now had was to talk to you. She wanted to know if you were as clever and fun at conversation as you were at scaring people in the cemetery.

Wednesday was looking for you in the quad when a tall boy approached you. Approached you too much.

And he kisses you.

Her stomach churned up violently, her blood boiled as she observed the most grotesque scene she has ever seen.

How could you be with...him?

How?

Suddenly, all your behavior seemed unpredictable and confusing. Dating him was something the Addams would never expect — not after studying you so keenly.

She did not have an answer for this.

So she decided to ask you yourself.

You were stretching your wings at the balcony of your room when a click came from the window. You didn't mind turning around.

If you felt you were in danger, you could simply fly away.

But you sensed something was off when no other sound came closer.

— You need something? 

— Yes, I do. — Her cold voice made you flinch. For a second, you thought you had just heard the voice of a ghost, but it was only her. She did seem as pale as an fantasmagorical being, yet her shining, gorgeous eyes proved she was pretty alive. 

This has already given you shivers – her gaze – now, however, you felt nothing for her. 

You haven’t spoken for a year, and you haven’t thought about her for months.

You moved on. 

— Hi, Wednesday. — You tried to collect yourself from the scare. — Long time no see. 

— I need to tell you something. — Wednesday said.

She was serious. As serious and focused as she was when she turned you down without second thought. 

— Go on. 

— I believe a mistake has been made — she started. — you are associating with the wrong people.

You couldn’t hold your urge to laugh. With a debauched grin, you asked: 

— Is that so? 

— Yes. — she hissed. — You deserve to be with odd people. As odd as you. Not with stereotyped simpletons. 

— Excuse me?

— Be with me. — she stepped ahead, getting closer to you. — We can be extraordinary together. 

— What are you even talking about? — your voice grew louder, and your wings spread wide, flapping around your body. — There is no “we”, there never was. 

— And this is a mistake. — she moved closer again, now only inches away from you. — Leave him. You deserve better. 

You laughed at her again. 

— Let me guess — you leaned over her — I deserve someone like you?

— Yes. — Her voice broke as your eyes fell to her lips. — Precisely.

— “Precisely.” — you burst into laughter. There were tears running down your blushed face when you finally were able to regain your breath and speak again. — Oh, beautiful, when will you realize? 

Wednesday could feel your hot breath touching her face, but your voice was completely cold.

— Only monsters deserve someone as narcissistic as you.

The Addams widened at your words, and she felt her heart skip a beat as you stepped away. 

Salty, icy tears fell from her eyes when you left her on the balcony, flying away without looking back. 

She doesn’t deserve you.

[maryannecrimsworth]

One Chicago Masterlist

So, yeah, Hailey Upton and Kevin Atwater are my favorites (so please send requests) but I'll pretty much write for everyone of One Chicago

Trainwreck

Pairing: Hailey Upton x OFC! Elizabeth "Ellie" O'Hara Warnings: violence; shooting; mention of school shooting; crying; panic attack

Two Hearts, One Kiss (Request)

Pairing: Will Halstead X Nurse! Hispanic! Reader Warnings: (probably wrong) medical terms, a little bit of blood; this one is fluff tbh

Future series + Headcanons + Chapter 1

Pairing: Hailey Upton x Single Father! Profiler! OC

Warnings: enemies to lovers, slow burn, crime and violence, hurt and comfort

Thank you for reading! 🧡

[maryannecrimsworth]

(Unexpected) Masterlist

Hello, folks. I'm Jac. Or Mac, you choose.

I write. Mainly angst. I'm a huge fan of mystery and thriller. You can request me pretty much anything, I just don't write smut.

Obs: I'm no longer taking Yandere! requests

Wednesday Masterlist

One Chicago Masterlist

Original Projects Masterlist (coming soon)

I also write for:

13 reasons why / Stranger Things / Ask me I'll try my best to write the character you want

Thank you for reading! 🧡

[maryannecrimsworth]

Hello sweetheart if you don't mind ofc Whould you write me a imagine Fanfic Oneshot of about me and Will Halstead pliss 🥺🥺❤️

Of course, sweetie!

Here is the link

Enjoy!

[maryannecrimsworth]

Two Hearts, One Kiss

Pairing: Will Halstead x Nurse! Hispanic! Reader

Summary: Your patient needed help, and there was only one person in the Med you could reach out to. After working for months at one of Chicago's top hospitals, you knew that was the best place to treat your patient - even if no one could know her name. Even after avoiding you for days, Will Halstead was the only one who could help you.

Author's note: this is the first request i've got in a while so thanks @zaidatorcuatomorgado for helping me write again

Warnings: (probably wrong) medical terms, a little bit of blood; this one is fluff tbh

The paramedics came through the emergency entrance with you following close behind. The woman lying on the stretcher, being carried along the corridor, was announced to the Chief of the ward.

–  62-year-old female, found unconscious inside her house. – the paramedic added.

– Pressure 7x4, 50 bpm, deep cut on forehead from a possible fall. – You took the lead from the medical first responders and reached out to the head nurse.

–Dr. Choi, Room 4. – Maggie said before you could stop her.

– Not him, please. – You were in the Med for a few months now, you knew how Choi would act. You needed somebody else, you needed him. - Get Halstead.

– What's the matter? – Maggie knew there was something wrong, you didn't make requests like that.

– Please, I'll explain later, just get Will. – He was the only one you trusted.

– Choi, hold up. Halstead, she's yours. – the doctors listened and obeyed Maggie right away.

– Thank you. – you squeezed the nurse's arm and ran to the room. Will had already transferred and examined the woman.

– No sign of concussion or brain damage. – he moved the flashlight away from the unconscious woman's eyes. – let's give her a liter of saline, x-ray, and a head CT. We need to find out what caused the fall.

– I'll take over – you said to the nurse in the room, who nodded and walked away promptly. Will continued to examine the patient while you cleaned your hands and put on your gloves.

– Was it you who found her? Did you notice anything?

– No, I just saw her slumped over and ran into her house.

– So you know her? – Fortunately, Will was too focused on looking for injuries on the woman to notice your hesitation. Still, your silence aroused suspicion and he raised his face to you.

– She is my patient. I need you to take care of her without asking questions.

– Y/n, that's not–

– Please – you approached him on an impulse; it didn't matter if things were awkward between you, you needed to help your patient. – her name can't go into the system.

– Why–

– Will! – he shut up immediately: he saw the worry in your eyes, he saw your fear.

He shook his head slightly, he was going to help you. You sighed with total relief, as if a ton had come off your shoulders.

– She has rheumatoid arthritis, but she has improved with physical therapy. I doubt it caused the fall.

– Does she take any medication?

– Just MTX.

– Right. – he stared at the woman lying on the bed and took a deep breath. – Order the tests and let's wait for the results. We'll find out what happened to her. 

You smiled at him. He might not have answered your request to go out with him yet, but you knew he wouldn't deny help to a patient of yours.

– About the other night…– his words made your face burn immediately. Perhaps this was not the best time to have this conversation, but Will went on: – I was caught by surprise with your request and— 

– Halstead, new patient, I need you in room 6. — Like an angel, Maggie appeared and cut him off: the doctor barely had time to reply and the head nurse was already pulling him away from you.

You were breathing more easily with his absence, at least you wouldn’t have to get a rejection after finding Mrs. Vasquez knocked out. You turned to the woman on the medical bedside and felt a tear run down your cheek. She was stable now, her prognosis was optimistic, but you could only think about her grandchildren. They would be terrified to know and to see their Abuela like                           this — no, no, you couldn’t let them see her like that. If anyone at the hospital figured out who the woman was, the kids would be brought up and the bills…Mrs. Vasquez could not afford the bills. 

Her whole family would fail and split because you called 911.

– Y/n? – Maggie walked in: her voice was low and soft, way too delicate for a woman in charge of the emergence wing. Right now, she was approaching you like a friend, not like a boss. – Are you alright? 

– Yeah, I’m just… — you cleaned your eyes. — in shock, I guess. 

– Would you like to stay here until she wakes up? You’re not on shift.

– Yes! Thanks, Maggie. 

The head nurse responded with a kind smile. 

– I’ll try to contact her family, they should know she’s here. – she stepped aside and got ready to leave: the phone on her hand was ready to make all the necessary calls. 

– Wait! – you reached her, preventing her from moving. Your eyes scanned the emergence wing before you went on: – Would you not..? – you whispered. – I don’t think she’s able to…pay for any of this. 

– I’m sorry, Y/N, but you know we’re struggling, if they discover someone’s not paying I–

– I know. –  you had no other choice: – Put my name on the bills, I’ll pay for her, just…please, she can’t be on the system. 

Maggie frowned at you. As always, she knew something was wrong, but she gave you a shot. She agreed and walked away without saying nothing. 

You sighed again, but your chest was still tight: you could only truly relax once you knew Mrs.Vasquez was okay. 

She’s been your patient for a year now. You started to work at the voluntary physiotherapy clinic as soon as you arrived in Chicago, and she was there. A working old lady raising three grandchildren by herself. She was exhausted and in physical pain — everyone would be in her place — but she was kind and happy, nonetheless. With your help and the treatment, she was getting better – now she could cook and sew much easier than before.  As a token of her gratitude, she frequently made you scarfs and empanadas. You were wearing one of her hand-made scarfs this morning, when you found her knocked out on the floor, bleeding. 

God, you felt like crying, and you did. Helping people like her was what gave purpose to your life; losing her, being hands off like that…it was breaking your heart. 

She had to get better. 

And you would stay by her side until she did. 

X

Nearly an hour has passed when Will came in with the results of the exams. You jumped off the chair and approached him:

– So? Why she fell? 

– You can relax already, your patient’s going to be okay soon enough. – He smiled proudly. – She passed out because of a cardiac arrhythmia, caused by too much caffeine. 

– Are you for real? – you choked a loud laughter, unable to believe him. – What about the CT? She’s fully ok? 

– Yes, she only needed stitches. – your joy was contagious, and now Will was laughing too. – The saline and the rest will be good to her but…honestly, she can go as soon as she wakes up. 

– Thank you so much! – you couldn’t help yourself: you ran over to him and hugged him in the middle of the room, in front of whoever that wanted to see. You squeezed him with all the strength you had and he, to your surprise, hugged you back. 

And neither of you have drifted apart. 

The only reason why you moved away was Mrs.Vasquez. Even with your head on his chest, you could hear the old woman grunting and moving on the bed. 

– Señora Vasquez! – you helped her to sit up. – ¿Estás bien? ¿Me oyes?

– ¿Por qué no escucharía? – she was still recognizing where she was. You gave her some time to analyze the place and understand what happened. – Oh. – her eyes focused on Will. – ¿Es ese el guapo que te gusta?

She pointed at him and you turned red immediately. Will didn’t have to speak Spanish, he already understood what she said. 

Again, he smiled proudly and stepped closer. 

– Hello, I’m Will. Can you speak my language? – Mrs.Vasquez nodded. – Great. Can you tell me your name? 

– Gloria Vasquez.

You stood silently as they talked. 

– Have you consumed much coffee recently, ma'am?

She turned to you before replying him: – ¡Qué encantador! ¡Cuán educado es! – your face was burning. – Yes, doctor, the kids wanted to have a sleepover and…well, a lady like me needs extra help to keep up with them. 

You held her hand tightly. 

– You passed out because of it, Gloria, you know you can’t do things like this. You could’ve been so much worse and—

– Cálmate, querida. – she caressed your hand. – I will survive, won’t I, doctor?

– That’s right. 

– That's what matters! – Gloria cheered, taking out a laughter from your worried expression. – Can we go now? – she came closer and whispered to you. – I have some interesting news for you. 

– Really? You want to gossip now? – you shook your head as you walked away. – No way. I’ll fill out the documents and you will rest, ma’am. – you were smiling, but your words were serious: she had to stay still for a while. Only a fall and a cut on the head would make Gloria rest properly. In a really weird sense, what happened this morning would be good to her.

It was possible to hear Mrs.Vasquez's mumbles from the corridor, but you had to give her some time — and give yourself a break as well.

You got so preoccupied that you got exhausted. Your back and legs were sore as if you had just worked out, and the tiredness hit you know. 

Will could see it in your face. 

– I was going to tell her off about all the coffee but I’m pretty sure you’ll take care of it. – he joked as he came closer to you. 

– I’m so sorry, Will. I've made a storm out of a glass of water and it was all because of a sleepover. – you laughed at yourself. – I feel a bit stupid right now. 

– Don’t be. You did right, she had to come to the hospital. 

– I’m not sure…It was too risky and…– You stopped talking. Shit. Will wasn’t supposed to know this. 

The doctor frowned at you. 

– Are you in trouble, Y/N? 

You looked away immediately. You wanted to tell him — you trusted him enough to tell him – but the more people who knew, the more likely the Guardian Council would get involved and try to separate Gloria from her family. Maybe she wasn't supposed to take care of three kids by herself, but she was all they had – and vice versa. They were a family, regardless of the state's opinion.

Again, it was too risky for the Vasquez family.

– I can’t—

– It’s okay. – He cut you off, his voice had a tone you'd never heard before: too serious and worried. – I don’t need to know but…just answer me: can I help you, somehow? 

You lifted your face to him – the question caught you by surprise. I shouldn’t — after all, this was all so typical of Will – but it did: his kindness surprised you. It always did. 

It was one of the main reasons why you could help but feel better around him. 

– You already did, Will. – you only noticed you were smiling when you saw his eyes dropping to your lips. Now he was smiling too. – Thank you again. – you stepped back. – See ya. – You were ready to go back to Gloria's room, but the world around you suddenly went dark, the ground seemed too far away and you felt your legs lose strength.

Will held you, preventing you from the fall. 

– God, this is so cliché. – you grunted under your breath, but Will was able to hear you. Your faces were almost glued together, and you felt his laughter on your skin. – Mierda. 

– Let me guess: you got so worried about Gloria that you forgot to eat.

You were already capable of standing by yourself, but his arms remained around you. 

– You guessed right. – you didn’t try to move away from him. 

– Is this a good time for dinner? 

– I don't think the cafeteria has anything worthy of being called a dinner, but–

– No. – Will chuckled. His cheeks were completely red. He was the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. – I mean, do you…Do you want to have dinner with me tonight? My shift will be over in a bit. 

You smiled brightly, your whole body was burning up now but it felt good. 

– So you finally made up your mind, uh? – unconsciously, you came closer to him. – You know, it’s rude to let a girl wait.

– Well, I got busy planning the most amazing date for the most amazing woman I’ve met. – you felt his breath on your skin. – And you haven't answered me yet. – his eyes fell to your lips again. 

This time, you couldn’t force yourself to move away: in an impulse, you grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him. 

His lips were softer than you'd imagined, but he was as passionate as you expected. 

You only broke apart when you lost your breath. 

Then you noticed that every nurse and doctor on the wing were cheering and watching. 

What a first kiss.

– Love the way you say ‘yes’. – He whispered to you.

Will was breathless and happy, his hands were holding you with tenderness and warmth. 

You couldn’t help: you kissed him again. 

And, this time, you could even hear Gloria cheering from her room.

[maryannecrimsworth]

Headcanons

Guide for tormented hearts

Just some ideas I gathered for The Hunt [Ao3] and You do need a friend

Hank is Y/N's older brother and main character of The Hunt.

A/N: its undone but its not like anyone will read this anyway

Wednesday Addams x Selective mute! Reader

You were a mystery. That's what you were to her, at first: a quiet boy, Hank's brother, with an unknown ability and agitated gaze. You watched everything, she noticed, and you also knew everyone since your brother made you deliver packages around all school. Enid started to follow you like crazy — to be friends, she said — and Wednesday did too. Not to be friends, but to solve you. After losing for Aretha, her confusing stalker, Wednesday needed to win : she needed another mystery, so it was what you became to her.

And her investigation took an interesting turn when you broke through her bedroom door. Dirty, disheveled, beaten — you were in a fight, and you lost, she could tell. Someone spanked you. And, still, you left her the note: a stupid riddle from your brother. She barely read it; her eyes stayed in you until you fled from Ophelia Hall with hushed steps.

Wednesday quickly figured out who assaulted you: she just followed the trail of puke and whining, and the source came from a room next to hers. She asked Enid about its owner, and the she-wolf scrunched her nose. Wednesday decided: your bully had to pay. 

The day next, her plan was perfectly executed: spiders arose from the girl's — the girl who led the group that mocked and spanked you — stray, and the arachnids crawled over her skin while she screamed for her life. Wednesday manages to get you out of the bathroom to see it — you were having some sort of coughing fit that she didn't actually understand — and then you laughed. The most genuine, low and wicked laugh she had ever heard. It lasted until the advisor — your brother — called you.

So you were vindictive. Vindictive and extremely shy; you also hated working in groups — that was the only plausible reason why you ran from her during the Biology class. She gathered some pieces of the puzzle(aka you), she was getting satisfied. Wednesday pretended to listen to Hank's sermons while you remained in silence by her side; posture strangely straight, chest puffed in defiance; she had never seen you like this before. And then you shook your head. Wednesday swore she had made some progress about you but then you shook your head and took the blame of her plan, alongside with her. You were going to be punished together. You didn't have to, you weren't supposed to — she made sure you knew nothing about it. So why did you tell Hank that you knew? Wednesday was confused again. 

And she remained confused as the detention week with you went on. You didn't utter a word for her, you only gave her nods and polite smiles. You were even more quiet than her. She took mental notes about your behavior: you avoided sirens at all costs, reason unknown; Eugene adored you, and you obviously adored his bees and hive, but you remained silent, blushed and agitated. She stopped Eugene from interrogating you before you could agree to get into the Hummers.

Then you two had to organize the Nevermore’s library. The place was chaotic, and you seemed annoyed. You replaced your compulsive scratching with methodic organizing, and you approached the messy shelves with extreme energy. The circles under your eyes were noticeable from meters away, your scrubby hair was another proof of your exhaustion, but you moved naturally. Worse, you moved vividly. And Wednesday’s deadpan, mean comments just seemed to energize you even more. She ended the day with one of your notes stored in her pocket, and she was ready to sleep, to die for a few hours until another day of torture by your side came along….until it appeared.

The nightmare, the kiss, the night beast and then you. You showed up soaked in blood in front of her, even though she threw the knife at the monster, not at you. You were terrified, about to cry, and her confusion took over completely: she screamed at you, demanding answers, and you just fled. She let you flee. You haunted her in the middle of the night and  said nothing. She spent the rest of the night sitting on her bed, your blood on her bedroom floor as her thoughts ran widely. What are you? Why did you get inside her head? Why did you make her have a dream like that?

You were an Alp, you explained in the morning, you gave her an old book telling its description. The beast that attacked her, that then turned into you, was being described in the book you left at her door. With it, there was a paper note. A message from you, not from Hank; Hank would never write with such an disturbed, hushed letter. It was a poem from you. About a nightmare of yours, of the Alp's. You had no control, she figured, you did not want to get inside her head, to scare her. But you did it anyway, now you knew something of her. And she had to go after you.

She found you sitting alone in your room, curled upon a piece of paper on the floor, writing frantically and barely paying attention to your surroundings. And your surroundings were even more strange than your posture. Your room was filled with books, journals, a desk, a chair and a cell. Nothing more, nothing less. You didn't have a bed. You didn't have a pillow. You had full shelves and pens and nothing about that room made much sense. Why would a window cell be surrounded by books? Why was a cell there? Why weren't you bothered about it?

Then you spoke. You spoke and your voice made Wednesday's thoughts stop completely. Your voice was so low and sharp, deep and hoarse, that it sounded like a ghost. She thought, for a second, that the room was haunted, a spirit was talking to her through a vision, but it was you. (Un)fortunately, you stopped talking as soon as you saw her boots. You continued to communicate with her through notes and signs, and you showed her dozens of your poems. You didn't have to — they were your trauma, your hell, after all — but you wanted to. You showed her a part of your mind, a part of your monster, after unintentionally seeing hers. None of you got scared — none of you reacted and backed away. You accepted each other fully.

You were brave for revealing yourself like that, for taking the responsibility for the monster that was within you, though it wasn't you. She admired you, from a brief second, and then a message was delivered to your house. A threat. An unusual way of communication from a stalker — the same communication from her stalker — and you tried to avoid it completely. The messenger demanded a meeting, and you hid in your restroom, trembling and shaking your head in denial as it could make it all go away. You were afraid again, and you behaved cowardly. Wednesday made you accept the meeting and went to the woods with you.

Part of her regretted it — her prideful side. You two were cornered in the forest by a werewolf, hunted during the night and she fainted. She froze and had a vision while you fought the beast. Somehow — and this is still confusing for her — you managed to escape with her in your arms. You stayed with her at the edge of the lake, and you calmed her down with your ghost voice. You were talking to her. You were talking and smiling as if she had not almost caused your death. She made you something you didn't want to, she made you feel fear, and you were smiling at her, helping her. She felt like smothering you. 

And she nearly did after seeing your patch yourself up with so much carelessness. You explained the situation to her with a few words, although she didn't ask you to, although she said your voice wasn't unpleasant — she was lying, but her mouth was faster than her brain, and she didn't know how to cope with it. With your voice. So she paid as much attention as she could to your body language and answered your question only after a few seconds. Yes, you were friends.

After that, Wednesday quickly learned your routine and started to make you company. Overall, you stayed at the library until Hank was done with his job, so it was pleasant and quiet to accompany you. Wednesday also learned that you stayed there as a way of hiding and as a way of studying. Books were your barriers, after all, but you always let her see a part of it. You separated books and notes from her. She refused most of them, trying to take a reaction from you, but she immediately landed the very same books as soon as you left the library. She read all of them — even the Emily Dickinson's.

Then your parents unexpectedly appeared in town, wishing to see your brother in secret, but you heard: she was with you when they stepped into the living room, and you overheard it together. Wednesday tried to pay attention to it but you were panicking, painting as if you were in pain and she had no other option to keep you calm: she had to hold you. Then she had a vision. 

The vision only made her puzzle grow — it wasn't a piece, but the reveal of another whole set of missing pieces, of lost clues she had to find. It was terrifying, and she told you about it…you looked unsurprised. The witch haunting her was your mother — she has haunted you since you were a child. How could you bear it? You were not a coward — you have faced fear since ever, since even before Wednesday knew what fear and loss were like. You faced it every day, probably every time, and, still, you managed to read, smile, and appreciate the world — to enjoy things and see things Wednesday would never even notice. That's what poetry was all about, she learned, to face a broken, wicked life with love, and she would never learn this without you. 

That also made you two extremely different. You were passionate, inspired, romantic, while she was cold, practical, rational. She stood by justice and order, while you looked to barely believe in them. Wednesday had noticed how different you were with your literary taste, but she really saw how distinct you were when you invited her over to a club.

The Cave was its name. A hidden, underground place for every single type of artist. You included: you wrote the songs most bands sang on stage, but never claimed the credit for it. They knew you were the writer behind it but no one complimented you in public, no one wanted to disturb you like that. It was strange, and Wednesday wouldn't have figured this out if not for Kent's and Divina's ramblings. They were your friends, somehow, and Wednesday tried to stay at the club with you, sometimes. Truth be told, she hated how loud and agitated it was, but she loved how it transformed you — it gave you an energy she had never seen, it gave you a gleam and passion in your eyes, it gave you a rhythm to your body and a twist to your lips. (It made her want to give you all these things too)

The best part, though she would never admit, was you when you noticed the slightly annoyed frown between her eyebrows and asked her to leave. You'd take her to the balcony, where the sound wasn't too loud, and stay there, in silence. If she wanted to look at the sky, you'd look at it with her; if Wednesday wanted to walk around Jericho, you'd walk with her. You seemed in peace, ready and at her disposal, but a bit of that energy had left your eyes. She wished she could bring it back. And, after a few weeks, she figured how. 

Wednesday’s theories about you were: you were quiet, always, and the silence and melancholy were a part of you that wouldn't change; you were either ecstatic or panicking, and you behave almost the same with opposite type of feelings; you remain a puzzle to her; you were beautiful, in a way she had never read or imagined, you were not dreadful or mean, or delicate and pure, you were unpredictable, but, above all, you chose beauty, always. You chose to see, to sing, to write it — you lived for it, you said once. Did you see beauty in her too?

She started to wonder about it after you kept fleeing from her room. You never stayed long — at first, she blamed Enid. Then, she blamed Thing, but you walked away even faster when they weren't around. You remained quiet, and then you'd say goodbye with a gesture and leave quickly. You'd come back — you always did — but she didn't want you to leave.

If she played for you, instead of writing in her typewriter, would you stay? If she showed how the lyrics she read from your journal or the book she picked for her affected her, would you stay? If you did, if you stayed with her just a bit longer  maybe she could be brave enough, maybe she could give the step closer that you'd finally understand. Maybe she would finally show you that she knew you were different. 

"Would you change anything?" You asked once she returned one of your journals. "No." She said more quickly than you expected. "It's brutal." She added before you could understand the deeper meaning behind her words. "Honest and brutal." She became happy to see you took it as a compliment. But, honestly, Wednesday wasn't sure if it was a compliment: the way you expressed yourself was so raw, so vivid and emotional, that a part of her felt disturbed; another part felt disgust, and another hated it — her chest flipped and tightened every time she read something from you, and her mind started to behave the same once you were around. Were you this simple: quiet and emotive? Were you this complex: irrational and indefinable? Wednesday didn't know.

But what she did know was that she couldn't let you go. She couldn’t let you get away again, she couldn’t let the Hexe touch you, ever again. No matter how haunted and hunted she would be to make sure of it — of your safety. Hank left you, she was not surprised, but she wasn’t going to leave you; it was hard for you to believe it. Especially after the Hexe attacked her, and especially after the police took you without telling anyone anything. “They’re in my pocket” you remembered your foster father saying. That’s why they chained you up in a completely isolated cell: not even the sheriff knew where you were. And, for a brief moment, Wednesday thought you had given up, that you had got sick of fleeing…and of fighting too. She ran all over the city, the woods, and the most odd, creepy places to find you, but she couldn’t. You had disappeared.

[maryannecrimsworth]

Headcanons

Guide for tormented hearts

Just some ideas I gathered for The Hunt [Ao3] and You do need a friend

Hank is Y/N's older brother and main character of The Hunt.

(@wol-fica enjoy)

Hank Hunter(L/N) X Tyler Galpin

Breakfast in bed it's a whole concept, sure? But…breakfast in Tyler’s cell's bed is….unusual. The guards didn't allow Hank to step in the dangerous patients section with a bag with food. 

"There's fresh toast and bacon, I'm not going to poison the guy." Hank argued. "Not even my wife gives me breakfast in bed, he's not taking it." The guard took the bag from Hank's hands while the tamer laughed. Now, he knew exactly how to persuade the guard. By the end of the week, both Tyler and the guard were having breakfast in bed. 

Funnily enough, Tyler didn’t accept it at first. There was no bacon for him — the guard always stole it — but there was toast, sausage and eggs. Why was he not eating?

Hank soon figured that Tyler was suspicious; he said nothing, ate nothing, he just stared at Hank for several sessions. It was hard to earn his trust, but Hank soon discovered it was only him. Not Tyler, the sheriff's son, but Tyler, the Laurel's Hyde. The monster. The boy had two faces, two sides: two beings inside of him, fighting for control. And Hank knew how to control them. 

The first time Hank spoke to Tyler, the normie one, it was sweet. Pleasant. He introduced himself — because suddenly Ty seemed to not recognize him — and told Tyler about himself. About Wednesday and Xavier. About Tyler’s mother's past and Vincent. He made sure Tyler knew he was not a monster, and neither was his mother. The Hyde was. And just like that, the Hyde took over. 

Hank froze before the sudden changes of his features: before the kind gaze turning into furious red eyes; before the shy smile turning into a mischievous smirk; before Tyler transforming, not to his true self, but to a monstrous one. Hank’s eyes flashed, the curse made his stomach churn and skin burn as the Hyde stepped closer. Tyler was still human — Hank’s chemicals and syringes prevented the monster from appearing — but its personality was there. Its urges and violent delights. Hank could feel it all, and his body stiffened due to the proximity. He learned to deal with the Hyde, to drive and handle him as he wanted; but he enjoyed being with Tyler, the true Tyler. The sheriff's son and barista, who looked at Hank's breakfast with horror. Not him, not the Hyde. Still, the Hyde, for some, kept appearing for him.

Maybe Hank was the only one who could tame the beast and love the boy.

[maryannecrimsworth]

Upstead

I'm super frustated with upstead and now i just want a happy ending for Hailey

Would you guys read a fic about a single father of two girls, former FBI profiler, who helps the intelligence unit to catch a group of incendiaries? Please like this post if you would

idk, i just imagine him and upton interaction and i think it would very great -- she needs someone who doesn't leave her, come on

anyway, that's it

bye~

[maryannecrimsworth]

SEQUEL VERSION 2, FINALLY I AM LET OUT OF THE CAGE NAMED EXAMS! Time to write an Ask/Request for Version 2! Reminisce! Memories! Love! Comfort! What we all love and need! I wanted to bring more angst to this story but im being considerate for a couple of friends of mine (*ahem*LouKayla*ahem*), i really want them to read this and they for some reason cant read full angsty stories. The song im listening to while making this is "Those Eyes" by New West as well as a bunch of Citizen Soldier songs.

Wednesday x Singer!Reader

Reader and their Band decided that they should stay a week more in Jericho, saying that they need this break. Reader a week prior to this, found a secluded spot in the forest where no one has yet to venture in. They go there every 2 days to just stare at the nature that is shown in front of them, appreciating how this part of the world still has this innocence, unbothered by the hands of humanity, relaxing as it is true seclusion from the noisy world that is slowly tearing them apart, relief as this is the only place where they can truly show their colors. The light from the sun seeping through the trees creating a ethereal imagine if one were to gaze upon this, they would think they were in another world for this sight is so scarce in this world. One person used to be all of this, this person they would kill for, this person they would die for and now the person they will leave behind.

(Okay we now enter 1st person view)

It was night time as you stumbled out of the club where you and your friends are having a lil party. A lil tipsy but still corrigible enough if spoken to, you trek through the town and started to venture into the forest, not noticing that a pair of eyes were watching you. The feelings you kept bottled tight is now getting loose and loose as you kept walking towards that clearing, stewing in your alcohol influenced thoughts. You hum as you trek through the darkness of the night, trek through the muddy thoughts that has been plagueing your mind since that confrontation with Wednesday, trek through the path towards that one precious spot of Elysium that has been blessed to the world, to you.

The peppy song you hum has slowly died when you entered the clearing. Eyes glossy and full of hurt as you walk towards the spot where you always sit at when you visit and you drop on your knees, you look up to the sky as you sit on your legs with your hands on your lap. (Blame Lou for making me this descriptive but the song i prefer to this is Im not okay by Citizen Soldier) You sing to the god you believe in, you wondered why they were not listening to you, why were they making you suffer, why were they not helping you, why is it so hard to say thst you arent okay, why werent you enough. At one part of the song, you feel arms wrap around you from behind, the arms feels so familiar and yet you cannot pinpoint who it is in your hazy mind but you didnt care as you continue to sing your lungs out with your tears running down your face like a river. As the song ends, you feel the arms tighten, holding you so tight with you staring off at nothing, panting.

OKAY I AM MAKING A PROMPT NOT A STORY BUT DO ADD MORE PLOT HERE CUZ LEGIT, i legit want you to add more in this. Fucking hell this was long and it took 2 days to make it, Hopefully you enjoy this and Goodluck my friend.

Here it is, sunshine. A beautiful hurt and comfort for you S2

Sequel(2) of Only Silence(Without You)

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Singer! Gn! Reader

Warnings: mention of betrayal; reader is suffering; fluff ending, I promise

See it(I'm Not Okay)

Tonight the monsters in my head

Are screaming so damn loud

Was God punishing you? 

After all the pranks, jokes and performances you did inside His church — after all your little vendettas on His followers  — were you finally being punished for your disrespect? For your anger and revolt? 

Was He, the all mighty God, making you pay in the worst possible way? 

Ripping your love apart, tearing your heart in front of everyone? Right under the stars, right above the soil, you were broken. Heartbroken — mindbroken; Every single part of you was sore from your crying and memories. 

You couldn’t close your eyes anymore, you couldn’t stay in Jericho any longer — your band needed a break, but you needed to run. To flee and forget, to cease the pain inside you. To make that image disappear — to make those eyes never appear in your mind again. In your dreams. 

No matter what you did, you kept dreaming about her. Her eyes, cold and motionless, staring at you like you were nothing. Like you were not deserving of a single word from her. 

Wednesday was haunting you — that was your divine punishment. 

The best solution, apparently, was not to sleep. 

Instead of spending your nights in your hotel room, now you were going out — exploring the city, its lights and its darkness. Luckly, Jericho was a really small city, surrounded by trees and unexplored nature, and your late walks soon turned into wanderings through the woods. 

But I built walls so high

So they never even make a sound

Your footsteps made a rhythmic sound, your breathing grew unsteady as you faced the sky. You were not paying attention, you could not, you were trying to forget and feel the present. Feel the cold wind and the wet ground under your feet. Maybe, if you kept walking, climbing and mixing yourself with the dirt, you could become part of it — maybe you could breathe the cold air and ease your mind until Wednesday was long gone. 

For years now, the rush in your veins and breeze in your mind was created by the very same person: by Wednesday. She was your world, your nature, your muse and inspiration. But now your mind felt numb, and your heart was shattered. You could not write, you could not create, you could only sing and walk deep into the woods. 

You had no purpose or path, only your steps resounding in the silence, only your loud breathing and the whispers of the wind. The plants and flowers around you were diffuse, too dark to be recognizable, too hidden for you to care. The moonlight barely reached them, and you remained in the dark like this: head bowed, lips humming carelessly, feet soaked because of the mud. Until they weren’t. 

Suddenly, your wet shoes gained color, and the moon shone above you like a headlight. Like you were on stage again, ready to sing for the audience and make them scream with you. Your world was coloured again, and it begged for a show, but, this time, you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t sing and laugh, you couldn't have the time of your life — this time, you could only watch. 

Your eyes moved slowly as the landscape took form around you: dark green grass, shining because of the dew; crepuscular sky and no clouds, just the wind singing to you. The tall trees and bushes surrounded you, and there was not a single sign of human life — you were alone, totally by yourself, in the middle of the most pure and beautiful clearing you have ever seen in your life.

Your old world had been left behind, now you have a new one: you have nature and art, poetry and music. You may not have her, but you have the heavens and the capacity to contemplate them. 

Do you need something other than that?

Wednesday made her choice, and now you have to do it too. You have to keep your eyes wide open, and watch the sky until her ghost leaves your mind.

It's a mask, it's a lie

It's the only home I've ever known

Tight. That’s the word which comes to your mind as the barman handed you another drink. 

You thought that the feeling surrounding your chest, smothering you, has emerged because of your clothes. So you changed them. 

Then you thought that the shortness of breath was a reaction to your lack of sleep. You decided to take a nap — it didn’t work.

The knot in your chest rose to your throat, and you blamed the loud music and crowded place your friends dragged you into. You were not even able to breathe — how could you party? But you tried. 

No matter how hard it was to regain your breath and smile to the people surrounding you, you tried. You danced a bit, you sang a bit, and you drank a bit, but the tight feeling wrapping your heart would not go away.  

As the burning liquid went down your throat, the bitterness lingering in your tongue made your chest tighten even harder. It was enough. You’ve had enough. After giving your band a boring excuse, you stood up from the club’s bar and walked away with heavy steps. Usually, the effects of alcohol didn’t bother you much — you hated the drunk artist stereotype, so you never drank a lot — but, today, the consequences of a stupid coquetel made you feel different. Suddenly, the string squeezing your heart became larger, stronger, louder; by the time you left the club and walked down Jericho’s empty streets, your chest was pounding so violently you could hear nothing but your own heartbeats. You stomped the ground: your feet sank into the soil as you followed the already familiar path, you started to tap your thighs as you wandered further into the woods, anything to muffle the sound of your heart being tightened. Anything to free you from the choking. Anything to take you to your new world — to nature, to the clearing, not to her. 

You have to forget your heart’s former owner, you have to shove her away as soon as possible. 

As soon as you reach the clearing. 

'Cause being who I really am

Has only left me more alone

You fell on your knees once the moon illuminated you. In the same place where you sat nights before, where you watched the dark sky turn into light blue and where you allowed the sun and moon to blind you — the same place where you found your new beginning, your choice, was now the place where you choked and trembled. Where you felt sorrow and hurt overwhelming your body as your vision got blurred. Sobbs escaped from your throat as you opened your lips: you had to put it out, you had to break the tight string before it mutes you, numbs you — before it ends you. 

Your hands move on your lap as you create the song’s rhythm with your fingers. The beat is inaccurate, the tempo is shaky and irregular, but the lines come out of your mouth with the most powerful tune. You sing, you scream your heart out, and the flora surrounding you resonates with your voice. 

I am not okay

And I need you to see it

The string was torn apart — the tightness fades as the tears keep running down your face. Your torso shakes, your hands tremble, your skin shivers and your voice cracks as you go on. You do not stop — you cannot stop.

I have so much to say

And no one to hear it

Why were you being punished? 

Were you being punished or were you doing it to yourself? 

Why did you lie? Your friends asked what was going on before you decided to leave the club — they’ve been asking what’s happening to you since your presentation, since your song dedicated to Nessie. To her.

Why were you doing this — why were you remaining in silence?

The reason I keep quiet

With so much at stake

For the others, there was always only silence from you, but for you, inside you, there was always deafening noise — your noise. 

Your heart was being torn apart from your chest, by your own voice — by the words you wished to speak, but couldn't.

So you sang them:

I always feel like a burden, let it silence me

You'll never understand

A person used to hear it. To listen to your unbearable noise. Only one: Wednesday Friday Addams. 

But she is gone now — far, far away from you. Why?

Why?

Because you were not enough.

You were not enough.

Why it's so hard to say

You screamed. You screamed at the top of your lungs as the tears soaked your face. It was too loud: your voice was too loud for you to hear anything — to hear her, to hear her steps approaching you. 

I'll never have the words, I can't explain this hell

But what if it kills me

If I keep it to myself?

To myself

A cold embrace surrounded your body.  Between all the yells, shivers and tremblings that took over you, the freezing touch barely made you move. You didn’t actually feel it — you only felt the sound, the song, the music blasting around you. 

I am not okay

I'm never safe

It's not a phase

You sobbed — the lines were ending, the silence was approaching you again. Your old world, your memories of her were coming back and you shut your eyes closed; you saw her. 

You didn’t want to but you did, and your chest tightened again. 

If I finally break

Would you still stay?

You cried and fell — your body collapsed as all your strength left you, your energy and force flowed out along with your voice. 

Your singing was nothing but a whisper as the music came to its end:

Tonight the monsters in my head

Are screaming so damn loud

Somehow, you did not hit the ground. The pair of cold hands holding you prevented you from falling — from breaking. 

You painted and gasped, trying to regain your breath before opening your eyes. 

It was all in vain — you had already recognized the touch, her touch. 

And you would never be able to breathe with Wednesday standing so close to you.

I am not okay

And I need you to see it

“I see it.” The blank voice reached your ears. “I see you, Y/N, everywhere.” Her grip became harder: she held your face and made you face her. “Open your eyes.” She pleaded: her tone was soft, and her fingers wiped your tears carefully. “Please.” A chill went over your body as her tone got weaker, it became quivering. Almost desperate. "Look at me."

You opened your eyes.

"I see you everywhere,too…" You grunted before tilting your head: you didn't have the strength to free yourself, but you tried. "I can't stop it, and I hate it. I hate it." A last tear ran down your face, but Wednesday didn't wipe it. "I don't want to see you anymore, I don't to feel…this anymore." You didn't move away. You couldn't move away, no matter how much your brain, your rational side told you too — you couldn't. "You hurted me, Wednesday."

"And you hurted me." She whispered. "I was desperate. I am desperate. I see you everywhere, in everyone, every single day, but it's never really you." Her voice was growing louder, sharper; her hands were still around your face. "You're the ghost haunting me. You're the curse who pierces my chest when you're away." Her fingers pressured your skin: they grabbed your nape, stroked your hair harshly as she went on. "You haunt me. You hurt me." She was crying — Wednesday was crying while her voice sounded like a roar, coming out between gritted teeth. "You destroy me."

"Let me go, then!" You fought back, finally being able to free yourself from her. "You've found someone better, a monster to entertain you, haven't you?" You stood up with a jump: the woods around echoed your words, and the clearing that provided you so much peace suddenly felt cursed. "Go have fun with him and forget me."

"I can't!" Wednesday followed you with hard steps, her boots sank into the mud as she prevented you from leaving the clearing. "Don't you understand?"

"Understand what?"

"I cannot!" She shouted, and the silence that came afterwards froze you. "I hate you!" She stepped closer. "I need you!" Her words reached your face: her hot breath heated your skin, and you could see how the coldness had left her features completely. "I tried everything to make this feeling go away, to free myself from you." Her hand grabbed her own chest: she felt the pain all again, she felt the knife ripping her heart as your eyes observed her in such a fury way. "I tried but I can't…" She lowered her gaze before whispering. "I'm sorry, Y/N." You could hear her breathing shaking. "I can't stop loving you."

"You betrayed me." You retorted with a hiss. "You betrayed me, Wednesday."

"I know." Now, her voice sounded like a sob. "I'll never forgive myself."

"And you betrayed me because you were trying to forget me? To survive without me?"

"Yes."

Her head was low, her body was shivering with shame and regret; her chest was already destroyed and you could see how her fingers trembled in the air.

"But you couldn't. You can't."

Wednesday made a mistake. She admitted: she was desperate, haunted by her own heart, and her solution for it was destroying it — destroying her heart, destroying you. Destroying what you two had.

"Yes."

She tried to destroy it --- she failed.

"You're crazy." You breathed out.

Suddenly, you felt the tightness again, the string: your chest was heavy, agitated, and she was no longer the only one trembling. 

Your hands were shaking by the time you raised them, and when you involved Wednesday's face you noticed how cold they really were. She was burning under your touch, and you were shivering.

Your whole body was frosting without her, while hers was searing because of you.

"Completely crazy." You couldn't fight it any longer: you kissed her.

Your lips enfolded hers in a hushed, anguished kiss: as if she was the air you had to breathe, as if she was the world you had to live in. You felt the taste of her tears: salty and cold, which kept falling down as she pulled you closer, pressuring your body against herself. 

"I…" You broke apart, gasping for breath. "I lo—" She pulled you back, kissing you even more desperately, more needily.

Her hands held you tightly, almost preventing you from moving: she was grasping you like she must, like she needed it to survive. 

Wednesday felt your smile under her lips. 

"I love you too." You said as soon as she allowed you to move slightly away. "Ma noirceur."

You held her face for a moment, watching her features: her swallowed lips, her uneasy breathing, her flushed cheeks, and her gleamed, devoted eyes. The dark orbs shone under the moonlight, and the tears falling down her pale face made her look like an angel: a broken one, a wicked one. A corrupted deity that begged for forgiveness — that needed your forgiveness. 

"I shall be your haunting forever and ever." You laughed. "Or you prefer to forget me?"

"Never." She answered immediately. "I can never. I will never." Wednesday kissed you again, a short, shy kiss. "You're mon hantise. My haunting." She repeated before blinking, a tear slowly left her eyes. "Never."

You smiled as she kept looking at you: trembling, pleading, waiting for your answer. 

And you answered. 

You kissed all her tears away.

[maryannecrimsworth]

How else do you fill a void other than with darkness? How do you bend into the light and not burn completely? How do you hold a heart and not feel it struggling to beat?